In Chains
by where's-waldo-15
Summary: Peter and Elizabeth Burke are bought by Neal Caffrey. What's the story? Rated T, but it does allude to past situations. (Nothing too graphic, though!) Don't want to reveal too much, but please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**Well, for anyone who read my other slave fic, "Master?", I did promise to put this one up! I hope this meets your expectations... ;) I really like this one 'cause usually it's NEAL who's the slave...but this one has a bit of a different take to the slavery...hope you guys love it! XD**

* * *

Whatever Ryan had expected, _this_ man definitely wasn't it. Looking back and trying to remember, he supposed that he had thought that the man would be a short, fat, ugly, middle-aged pervert. Perhaps the man's remaining greasy blond hair would be combed over his bald head in an attempt to look more attractive. He would be rich, but he didn't use the money to buy an attractive, lavish house. No, he had other things in mind for his money, but he really didn't care about appearance. He would probably also be very nervous and wary of what he said, so that he wouldn't be put in jail if there happened to be any undercover cops there. He would try to hide his nervousness, but he would keep glancing around and biting his right thumbnail.

But this man was nothing like that. He couldn't have been more than thirty years old, with perfectly coiffed dark hair. His skin was the perfect shade of tan, and his teeth were perfectly straight, perfectly white. He wore a nice dark suit that complimented his physique, along with a skinny blue tie. His solid gold cufflinks had the initials _NC _engraved into them, and his black briefcase looked like it was made of _real _leather. But most notable about him were his eyes - they were the brightest shade of blue that Ryan had ever seen, seemingly piercing into him as he spoke.

Even after he'd seen him, Ryan still began to judge him, decide what he would be like. For someone who was this attractive, he would definitely be a snobby son of a bitch. He would think he was better than Ryan - which was true - and he would make his disgusted opinion very obvious. He would turn his nose up at every one of Ryan's suggestions, and by the end he would grudgingly take one who's not _as _terrible as the rest, and then argue that because the person is not in good condition, he would only pay a discounted price. But, it's not like Ryan could go to the law about it - he _was _human trafficking, after all.

But then he was surprised again, when this man spoke perfectly politely and evenly. He was kind to Ryan, even when this man probably made more money in a day than Ryan made in a year. He didn't stare with disgust at the people, and he didn't look disinterestedly over Ryan's head when Ryan spoke. He made eye contact with Ryan - though Ryan wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not - and he listened, not interrupting when Ryan spoke. He could've been a model for World's Most Gentlemanly Figure, if such a thing existed. And then, adding that politeness to his handsome features, he would win for sure. It put Ryan almost in a state of unbalance, merging this man with the one he had created, who he'd thought he really was.

Of course, many people were surprised when they met this man after having judged them by reputation. Rumors surrounded him - that came with being rich. Most thought he _was _a snob. Even after they met him, they thought he was just _acting _gentlemanly, but didn't really give a damn about them or their troubles. But they were far from the truth...but then not a lot of people knew the _real _Neal Caffrey.

* * *

Neal walked down the row of cages and cells, glancing disinterestedly in each. Thin, sickly people sat inside, sometimes as many as six in the five-by-five-foot cells. They looked back at him through hollowed, drugged-looking eyes. Some looked hopeful that they would get to come out, but Neal had no interest in these. Some were old, but most were young. One woman, maybe only seventeen years old, looked larger than the rest, but definitely not as healthy. A young child sat in her arms, sucking on the woman's breast, right in front of everyone. But no one cared. No one noticed. It was clear that the baby had only recently been born, maybe in the last few months or so, but there were no men in the cell. Either the father had already been taken, or the father was one of these guards out here with the whips hanging off of their belts. It was probably the latter.

He continued on, looking in each cell without trying to look like he was looking for someone in particular. He had begun to think that he wouldn't be finding what he was looking for today, when he finally got to the last cell. A lone man sat inside, probably only a few years older than him with dirty blond hair and russet brown eyes. He looked intelligent, though his clothes looked dirty and awful with use. He glared hatefully at Neal, and Neal let a tiny smile creep onto his face. He liked the rebellious ones who actually _had _a brain. The ones who had been born into this forced slavery didn't know any different life, and _wanted _to please their master or mistress, because that was all they knew. They were so _boring_. But _this _man wanted to be free, that much was clear.

He turned to Ryan. "I would like this one, please," he told him with perfect eloquence and politeness.

As the cell was unlocked and the man was brought out, Neal noticed a look cross over his face - it was no longer showing hate toward him, but rather...worry, and maybe some sadness. Neal was confused by this at first, but then a door opened at the end of the hall and a man came in, holding tightly to the arm of a pretty woman with dark hair and bright blue eyes. Neal did a double-take, confused for a moment, but then he realized that it wasn't who he'd thought she'd been. She had a look on her face, one of anger but also a little of embarrassment, and her lips were swollen and red. There was a bruise forming on her neck, and she held her arms in front of her stomach as though it hurt, like she was protecting it. Those arms had bruises forming on them, in the shape of fingers, and there were four parallel jagged cuts on each of her shoulders that looked like they had been made with fingernails. Neal knew then what had happened, but he pushed the thought from his mind. He couldn't think about that right now, about the injustice of it. He was on a mission.

Neal turned back to the man being brought out of the cell, taking hold of his elbow so that he wouldn't run. The man didn't look at him, but rather looked like he was studiously focusing on anything but the man and woman who had entered. Neal opened his mouth to say something to the man, but just then the woman cried out, cutting off what he was going to say.

"Peter!" She cried. Neal turned in time to see her wrenching free of the man's grip, running toward him and the man he was buying.

"El, no!" the man exclaimed, worry making lines on his face as he put up his hands, a motion for her to stop. She ignored his exclamation and kept running. Just as the woman - El - put her arms around Peter's neck, hugging him tight, the man she had broken free from jerked El rather violently from Peter. She cried out in protest and pain at this, and the other man - Ryan, Neal remembered - pulled a whip from his belt, raising it high as he set his sights on El. Peter jerked from Neal's grip - not that that was too difficult as he wasn't holding to him tightly - and stood between El and the whip, putting up an arm in a flimsy attempt to defend himself and her.

"No!" he cried out, visible anger for the man and concern for El showing on his face and sounding in his voice. The whip came down, cracking against Peter's arm and grazing his cheek. Both places that had been hit opened with a fresh, thin cut, blood trickling out. Peter stumbled and the man shoved him to the ground as he raised the whip again, this time aiming for Peter.

The blow was stopped by Neal as he grabbed Ryan's forearm forcefully, in a strong grip that he didn't even look like he was capable of making with his thin form.

"Stop," he said, his voice becoming less than courteous for the first time since he'd been there. He stared right into Ryan's eyes, daring him to argue, before Ryan finally relaxed his arm, looking surprised. It was only then that Neal released him.

"Get up," Neal said to Peter, though he still looked at Ryan. Peter obeyed a bit slowly, not quite sure why Neal had saved him from the whip. Did he want to beat him _himself_? He _was _the new master, after all, and in breaking free of him and then running without permission, that was his very first act of disobedience. Neal would probably want to start breaking him in to _his _rules as soon as he got him. He cringed mentally at the thought. He just hoped that if this man was occupied with _him_, he would forget about El, like what had happened with Ryan.

Neal stared at Ryan for another moment before he turned so that he was facing both Peter and El.

"You two are...married?" he questioned, sounding hesitant but curious at the same time.

El stared at him through teared eyes, thinking that Neal was going to take Peter and leave her there. Peter wasn't much different, though his eyes held suspicion with that fear as they both answered, "Yes."

Neal looked like he was contemplating something for a moment before he turned to Ryan. In a voice that left no room for argument he said:

"I'll take her too."

* * *

Nope, Neal Caffrey was definitely _not _what Ryan had expected. When the woman had run away from the other man - Isaac - he'd thought that he could prove himself a good master to Caffrey by beating her for her disobedience, and then when the man stepped in front of her, he'd thought he could prove himself through the man instead.

He'd been more than shocked when Mr. Caffrey had grabbed his arm and told him to stop, in a voice that dared him to argue. This was when Caffrey's voice took on a slightly hard edge, one of warning, telling him that he didn't want to cross him. Just seeing that look on his face made him want to whip _himself_, just to make the young, rich man happy.

But this wasn't necessary as Neal talked to the man and the woman, curiously asking if they were married. He spoke in an even voice, like he wasn't any better than them, when, in fact, he was _buying _them, pretty much putting them somewhere between dogs and insects on the food chain.

This was another thing that surprised Ryan. Neal Caffrey was going to buy _both _of them, just because they were married and he didn't want to split them up. This was a kind action, one Ryan had never seen in _any _slave master that came along. Most of the time when there was a married couple, or a parent with children, or siblings, the people that came along got a kick out of seeing them separated - they liked seeing their pain and sadness at the knowledge that they would probably never see the other again.

Of course, by now Ryan knew not to assume anything when it concerned Neal Caffrey. For all he knew, Caffrey was going to go home, tie up the man in a corner, and rape the woman right in front of him, when he couldn't do anything to stop it but beg. He could be just like all of the other people that came by who got a kick out of the begging on both sides, pleading with him for him to stop. There were a lot of sadists in the world.

There wasn't a lot of paperwork that went in to buying people - for obvious reasons - but still there was some, to prevent former masters from returning and stealing back the slave they'd sold years before, and it took a while to get it drawn up. While Ryan sat at the computer at the front, he watched Neal Caffrey from the corner of his eye. He stood calmly near the door, hands clasped in front of him and legs spread shoulder width apart. It reminded Ryan of a bodyguard as Neal watched his new slaves in one corner of the room. Their hands were clasped in each other's but neither spoke, though Ryan noticed that their eyes frequently drifted to Neal. But they looked away as soon as they realized that Neal was looking back at them, too. Ryan couldn't decide if it was fear or respect that made them look away. Perhaps it was just that general awkwardness that everyone had when they realize that someone is staring at them, and they wonder if they have something on their face or in their hair.

The computer _pinged _that it was done, and Ryan refocused on that as he pressed PRINT and the papers came out of the printer behind him. As he took the papers off, Neal picked up the briefcase he'd set on the floor and placed it on the counter, opening it up to reveal stacks of cash, each bundle being $5,000.

"I think this should suffice," Neal said evenly. "Nine million for the woman and six million for the man."

Ryan nodded silently and handed him the papers that said the married couple was his. He started to reach into the briefcase to take out the piles of money, but Neal cut him off, saying simply:

"Keep the briefcase. I have eleven more just like it."

Ryan closed the briefcase and put it in the safe under the counter.

"Thank you, sir," he said.

"Thank _you_," Neal said, though his voice wasn't as polite as it had been when he'd first arrived. "You have a nice day."

This time it sounded like a warning.

* * *

"Why in _hell _would you buy _both _of them, Caffrey?"

Hughes' voice was both angry and confused as he talked over the phone to the young man. Neal glanced at the car beside him, where Peter and El sat in the back, wrists and ankles handcuffed to each other to prevent them from running. The door was closed so that they couldn't hear what he was saying.

"They're _married_, Hughes," Neal explained, sounding slightly exasperated. "I can't split them apart just for a case, because the chances of them ever seeing each other again if I did that are pretty much _nil_."

"But this is a _mission_." Hughes argued. "You can't let your _feelings _get involved in this! You need to find out what Burke knows, and that is _it_!"

"What if his wife knows something? What if she was there, too?"

"She wasn't on the footage." Hughes said flatly.

Neal shook his head patiently, even though Hughes couldn't see him. "But there _are _blind spots - she could've been in one of them."

"You're basing a lot of this off of theories, Caffrey, and I don't like the direction this is taking." Hughes' voice was one of warning.

Neal rubbed a hand tiredly over his face. "I know that," he said quietly. "It's just...I saw them, both defending the other even when they knew that it meant certain pain. They _truly _love each other, even in their worst states."

"You cost this division nine million more dollars extra, too, after _he _went for six million."

"You and I _both _know that that woman is worth at least nineteen million alone, and the man easily sixteen million. I acted confident, and I got a fifty-seven percent discount. And even if it _was _extra money, don't you think it's worth it in the end?" Neal argued. "We can catch these bastards at the _head _of this human trafficking organization, and stop them from destroying thousands of lives."

"This is personal, I know, but you need to focus. You have one job, and one job only - find out what this Burke knows, and report back. I don't want you to befriend either of them, do you hear me?"

"I hear you," Neal said with annoyance. "I'm not a _dog_."

Hughes' voice softened slightly. "I know that," he said after a moment. "We just need this _one_ thing, and we can bring down the largest and most prosperous human trafficking ring in the Northern Hemisphere."

"Copy that," Neal said, glancing at Peter and El in the back seat again. They looked the same as they did before, not moving and silent. "I'm just glad that I insisted that that glass be put between the front seat and the backseat - I think these two are firecrackers."

"Thank God. _Someone _has a brain."

"Some people don't know any different," Neal said with a shrug. "Still, I feel like defiant ones will be easier than the compliant ones have been. So..." he adjusted one of his cufflinks that had come loose as his voice took on a slightly disgusted edge. "I have slaves to be a new master to. I'll report back later."

* * *

Peter and El watched silently from inside the car as their new owner talked on the phone. He looked exasperated, like he was trying to convince someone of something. He frequently glanced back at the two of them, apparently making sure that they were still there.

Peter was a bit confused. No, scratch that - he was _very _confused. First this man had saved him from that dreaded whip, and then he had bought him _and _his wife. He wasn't sure exactly why - it _could've _been compassion for their cause, but he highly doubted that. He'd seen what owners had done to their slaves before when they knew they were married or related, and it wasn't pretty. Most of the time they would hurt one to convince the other to obey them unreservedly. Peter shuddered at the thought of what this man might do. Sure, he looked charming and nice enough, but he had seen the darkness and coldness in his eyes when he had stopped that other man - Ryan - from whipping him. This polite, gentlemanly act was just that - an act. It was all fake, and when they were alone, he would no doubt let that coldness show through, and would make his and El's lives a living hell.

But, until he dropped the kind, polite act, Peter _did _owe him - once for saving him from the whip and another for taking El as well, so that they wouldn't have to be separated. So he would play the part of slave - he would be loyal, and he wouldn't protest at a direction from the man. But as soon as he started showing his _real _side - the _cruel _side - he was going to get the hell out of there.

* * *

**So...you guys like? Please tell me! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**First off, I'd like to say thanks to the many reviews that I've gotten so far...:D they really make me happy! I'm glad to see that people are so interested in this angle! **

**Secondly, I feel like I was caught in a lie...:/ For "What is Family?", I told everyone at the last chapter that I updated that I wouldn't update for a while because of finals and then going out of town. As you can see, I am updating THIS chapter, three days after I said that, and someone mentioned that in a review. Well, when I said I wasn't updating, I really just meant for THAT fic - not because I lost interest or anything like that, but I just have a lot of chapters from several different fics sitting in my Doc Manager. This is because when I updated the last chapter, that was the last chapter I'd written as of yet for THAT fic. I'm updating THIS one because I've had it sitting here for a good two or three weeks already, but I wanted to finish "Master?" before I even STARTED this one. So when I said I wouldn't update for a while, it was just because it wasn't written and I wouldn't have enough time to write it and update.**

**Anyhoo...hope that makes sense to you all, and I hope that means something to some of you...hope it didn't come across as lying...:( And now, I have to get back to my Geometry final. Joy. *note sarcasm* Hope you guys enjoy this update!**

* * *

"So, I know I haven't formally introduced myself," Neal said as he stood in the foyer of the mansion. "My name is Neal Caffrey, but you can call me anything you like. Mr. Caffrey is fine, but some of my previous slaves have taken to calling me 'Master'. Personally, I prefer just 'Neal', but hey, beggars can't be choosers." He flashed a smile at Peter and El as he motioned for them to follow him to the kitchen. "I'm not exactly the strictest owner, as you'll come to find out, and I don't have a lot of rules, but the rules I _do _have I expect to be followed."

Neal got to the kitchen table and found a box sitting there, a note sitting on top. He picked it up and glanced over it.

_Got the trackers you asked for. The shockers work, but don't turn into a sadist on me! The keys are in the bag at the bottom._

_-Moz_

Neal smiled to himself as he pictured his best friend's expression as he wrote the note. Then he crumpled the paper in his hand and shoved it in his pocket, then spoke as he opened the box.

"One of the most important - if not the _very _most - is that you wear these."

Neal's hands came out of the box, holding two GPS tracking anklets. He turned around, showing the trackers to Peter and El.

"They're tracking anklets," Neal explained, motioning with his hand for Peter to come closer. "I can see at any time where you are. Put your foot up, please."

Peter obeyed, putting his foot on the seat of one of the chairs, and Neal leaned down and snapped the tracker around his ankle. Peter put his foot down as Neal continued with his explanation:

"If you cut it or try to tamper with it, it will shock you with a voltage strong enough to knock you unconscious, while simultaneously signaling to me where you are. I can be there in five minutes tops. Do you need a demonstration?"

Peter shook his head. "I believe you."

"Good. I do hate using the shocker, but I suppose it comes with my lifestyle. Another thing, I've set a radius of two miles with this house, and if you step a foot outside of your radius, it will do the same thing as if you cut it. El," he motioned for her to come closer.

She did, but she said in an even voice, "My name is Elizabeth."

Peter tensed, expecting Neal's calm and patient demeanor to crack at that, for him to suddenly lash out and punish El for speaking out, especially without permission. With that action, she would surely get a beating and then no food for a day. He knew that if Neal _did _do that, he would, without a second's thought, take El's place in the punishment, or better yet, knock Neal unconscious and go to the nearest police station. Or even better, the FBI. Wasn't there a division dedicated solely to helping _stop _human trafficking? He _did _know where the FBI offices in New York City were - he'd almost been able to get to it once, but then his owner had come and recaptured him before he could take the mere 500-foot walk to the offices. It really was a cruel, unfair world.

But, instead of getting angry at El, Neal only smiled easily, saying, "Elizabeth it is, then. I apologize - I wasn't sure what El was short for, if it was for Eleanor or Elena or Elizabeth...I suppose I could've looked at the papers, but I didn't think about that." He gave a little laugh and looked at Peter. "Are you still Peter, or do you prefer to be called something else?"

"Peter is fine," Peter answered shortly.

"Good!" Neal said with a smile, turning back to Elizabeth. "Now, your ankle, please."

Instead of putting up her ankle on a chair like Peter had, El simply picked her foot up and held it at Neal's hand level. Again, Peter tensed, expecting Neal to do something like run his hand along El's calf suggestively as he snapped the anklet on. But again, Neal didn't do as expected, simply clicking the anklet into place in the same simple, easy way he had with Peter, and then stepped back, putting his hands in his pockets as though he hadn't a care in the world.

"There," he said with satisfaction. "Now that the biggest part is out of the way, the rest of the rules are pretty simple. Firstly, the real simple stuff your mom told you not to do - no drugs, no alcohol, no breaking the law, and most importantly, always, _always _remember..." He looked serious for a moment before he grinned. "No running with scissors - you could poke your eye out with those things!"

El fought a smile from rising, but Peter still looked stone-faced. But Neal, undeterred, continued:

"Sorry. Bad joke. But seriously - and this you _should _pay attention to - no phones, no contacting or speaking to law enforcement of _any _kind, no association with the press, no speaking to anyone you knew before you came here, and no trying to run or get free...you know, basic stuff. If you violate any of these rules, you will be punished. And don't think that I won't know - I have ears literally _everywhere_." He smiled a little as though holding a secret. "Any questions?"

"What about...chores and such?" El asked a bit tentatively.

Neal waved this off. "I'll leave a list for each of you every morning on your bedroom door. Unless specified on it, I just expect it to be done by the end of the day."

"Is end of the day midnight or when you go to bed?" Peter interjected, sounding a bit snotty.

Either Neal didn't notice or he didn't care. "I usually go to bed around ten o' clock at night," he answered simply. "In the event that I have you doing something for me, I will give you until midnight." His face adopted an expression of remembrance as he realized something. "I should show you to your room! Follow me." Neal turned and went up the stairs, going to the second floor. He opened a door about midway down the hall and then stepped back, letting Peter and El enter first. He followed behind them.

The room was fairly large, with a king-size bed in the center of the wall at the far end. The comforter was gold and the pillows white, and there was a nightstand on either side of the bed. An alcove was on the right side of the room when they entered, leading to a bathroom with marble sinks and an ornate mirror over them. There was a shower and a bathtub, and the toilet was in its own little area with a door to block it. The closet was also back there.

On the other side of the room was a large window with white curtains that were currently drawn back with a gold rope. The view outside showed the New York skyline, sure to be breathtaking at night when all of the lights were on.

"I hope this satisfies you both," Neal said, while they just stared at the room in surprise on shock, having not expected to be treated so well. "The window opens so that you can get fresh air at night - it does get a little stuffy in here, but I'm having someone to come and work on the AC in here sometime in the next week.

"The biggest problem, though, is the closet. I didn't get any clothes, because I wasn't sure what you would like, so I drew up a bank account for you. There's three thousand dollars in it for clothes, but I had only been expecting one person." He honestly looked troubled by this, while Peter and El now turned their disbelief to him.

"If you need more, just let me know, and I can have it wired," Neal said. "Now, I'm sure you would like to get out of those clothes, so..." he pulled his wallet out of his suit pocket and pulled a card out of it, handing it to Peter. "Don't spend it all in one place."

"You want us to go...alone?" El asked, surprised that Neal would trust them so quickly.

Neal suddenly remembered something. "Oh, yes!" he exclaimed, reaching into his pants pocket. "I almost forgot," he explained, his hand coming out holding a key - a car key. "This is your mode of transportation - it goes to the blue Volvo out back." He turned to El with an almost flirtatious smile. "I get the feeling that _you're _the one who likes to drive fast."

El smiled a little at that and took the proffered key from his outstretched hand. "Thank you," she said after a pause.

"You should get cleaned up first though, before you go," Neal informed them. "I left each of you a shirt and jeans in the bathroom - get showered up and then go."

El nodded and began to leave, Peter following after a moment.

"You two kids have fun," Neal smiled, putting his hands comfortably into his pockets. After El had closed the bathroom door, Neal grabbed Peter's arm.

"Peter," he said calmly, "I just thought that I should let you know that I am _not _going to make a move on your wife. I didn't purchase you two for _sex_." He said the word with a slight edge, as though he hated it.

"Then why _did _you purchase us?" Peter demanded, not believing Neal's words.

Neal smiled, releasing Peter's arm and slipping his hands into his pockets again. "That's for me to know and you to...dot dot dot," he said in an almost teasing voice, and walked out the open bedroom door. Peter stared after him for another moment, weighing his words, but then he just shook his head and followed El into the bathroom.

* * *

**For anyone who watches The Vampire Diaries, I hope you noticed that that last line of Neal's was one of Damon's...:D Please give me a yummy little review! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

"Why the hell would you give them the keys to the _car_?"

Neal rubbed a hand over his face as he stood up to bring his plate to the sink. "I know, Mozzie – the whole sadist thing you're always stressing to me about – but I'm supposed to be _master _to these poor people, and a master would test them. That's all this is – it's a test."

"What about licenses?" Mozzie argued. "They've been slaves for _nine years_ – they don't have a valid license anymore!"

"I already dealt with that, Moz," Neal sighed, setting the plate in the sink and then leaning against the counter. "Hughes gave me the okay to forge licenses for them in the event that they're pulled over. Look, it's really complicated and attached to a whole long explanation, but I've got all of the legal matters under control, including the money issues."

"But aren't you afraid they'll go to the cops?" Mozzie argued. "Or drive away? This 'test' wasn't too well thought out, Neal."

"I've thought about this test ever since I found out I had to find Peter Burke and buy him. That was three weeks ago – I've had enough time to think about the right test."

"But what if they _don't _defy you?" Mozzie argued. "They come back, they have all of their stuff, they're completely obedient…what then?"

"Then we have a bit farther to go than I thought," Neal said with a shrug, holding the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he began to roll up his sleeves and turn toward the sink. "I can't ask Burke anything about that night until he's more…you know."

"And what if they _do _defy you?"

Neal carefully turned on the water and put the plate underneath the flow, trying not to think too much about his question as he answered simply, "If they defy me, I have to play my role. I must be master."

* * *

It had felt like forever since Elizabeth had been behind the wheel of _any _car, let alone a new _Volvo_. She loved the feel of the brakes, the acceleration, how easily it moved under her guidance. Her bright blue eyes were alight with excitement and glee as she skillfully navigated through the New York City traffic.

It felt like all too soon when she pulled into the mall parking lot. Smiling, she removed the keys from the ignition and got out of the car, Peter getting out on his side. They walked quietly into the mall, both in their own thoughts.

Finally, as they approached the Sear's inside, Peter took hold of El's elbow, pulling her to a stop. She turned to him with a questioning look as he spoke.

"We should get help," he said. "Get free while we can."

El blinked. "But…" she sounded hesitant. "Mr. Caffrey…Master…_whatever_ his name is – he said if we did something like that – something against him – we'd be punished."

"So he won't know," Peter said urgently, taking both of her hands in his. "We can just drive for hours, and when we get far enough away, that's when we can call someone for help."

El shook her head and pulled her hands from his. "He has ears everywhere," she argued. "We would never escape. And if we did, we wouldn't get far."

"We could drive directly to the FBI headquarters, then." Peter said, taking her hand again as she began to turn away. "There's that division that fights against it…"

"Office for Victim Assistance, I know," El said. "But have you forgotten _these_?" she lifted her pant leg, nodding down at the sleek black tracking anklet. "He'll know where we are and he'll be there before we can walk in. Or, if we try to cut it, it will shock us unconscious and he'll be there."

"Well, then let's get a phone," Peter suggested. "Call for help."

El looked uncertain, but finally she nodded. "Okay," she agreed. They went to several people, asking to borrow their cell phone, before an older woman finally gave it to them, apparently sensing the couple's distress.

"Thank you so much," El said as Peter took the phone.

"Are you okay, honey?" the woman said concernedly as she took El's hands in her own withered ones.

El gave her a smile and glanced over at Peter, who began to dial an apparently memorized number. Looking back at the kind woman, she smiled and said, "We will be."

* * *

Diana hardly looked up as the phone on her desk rang, continuing to write something in the yellow legal pad on her desk as she reached over with her left hand and picked up the phone.

"Berrigan," she said tersely, not really paying too much attention to the man on the other end.

"Wait, wait," she interrupted after a moment, something he had said catching her attention. She put down the pen in her hand as she gave the man on the other end her full attention. "Sir, could you repeat that, please?"

_"My name is Peter Burke – I'm with my wife Elizabeth. We were bought by a man named Neal Caffrey this morning, and we don't know where else to go."_

"Did you say Neal _Caffrey_?" Diana interjected.

_"Yes – Neal Caffrey. We're at the mall…"_

"Dammit, Caffrey," Diana whispered as Peter continued talking. She pulled up Peter and El's tracking data on her computer and saw which mall they were at. But, going along with everything, she asked where Peter was. After he'd given her directions, she nodded as she said:

"A car will be over soon to pick you guys up and bring you down, sir. Just stay where you are and don't hang up until they arrive."

* * *

El looked up with relief when she saw the two men, apparently FBI agents, coming toward them. Peter said something to the agent on the other end of the line, and then hung up and gave the phone back to the old woman.

"Thank you so much," El told her. With a confused sort of smile, not knowing what was going on, the woman nodded and walked away.

"My name is Agent Halden, and this is my partner, Agent Tabernackle," the younger of the two said. He couldn't have been more than thirty-five years old, but there was a look in his eyes that made them want to trust him. "Please come with us."

Peter couldn't believe that it was over so soon – so easily. With one little call, they were free. He felt limp as he followed the agents to their car, but he managed to hold it together enough to walk. He smiled a relieved smile as he and El got in the back of the blue sedan, and then leaned his head against the head rest, not even paying attention to where they were driving. El followed suit, closing her eyes.

Just as she was about to fall asleep, the car pulled to a stop. The front doors of the car opened, but the locks in the back never clicked open. El opened her eyes and pulled on the handle, but then at Peter's intake of breath behind her, she turned and looked out his window.

They were parked right in front of Neal Caffrey's mansion.

Peter and El shared horrified looks as they watched the two men who'd driven them walk up to the front door. This nightmare was far from over.

* * *

Neal got up when he heard the doorbell ring. With a suspicious feeling in his gut, he walked out of the kitchen, putting down the towel he'd dried his hands with on the way out.

"…and don't tell me you made that joke about no running with scissors again!" Mozzie was ranting on the phone as he walked. "I swear you say that _every _time, and it never breaks the ice the way you'd think! You need to stop being cocky, Neal. It's not good for you. I have this friend – he's…"

"I gotta get the door, Moz," Neal interrupted impatiently. "I've gotta call you back later."

Without waiting for a response, he hung up, slipping the phone into his suit pocket as he opened the front door. He saw two of his friends there, wearing grim expressions.

"They didn't," Neal sighed, knowing already what the answer was.

"They're in the back of the car," Halden said regretfully.

"What're you gonna do this time, boss?" Tabernackle asked him a bit nervously.

Neal glanced over at the car, but he couldn't see inside because of the tinted windows. Still, he could imagine the looks that the Burkes would have right then – horror, distrust, fear…

"I don't know," he sighed. "This is the worst part of my job. I hope you guys _never_ have to be put in this position."

"Look at it this way," Halden tried to console. "If you can get through to them and get what you're supposed to, we can stop hundreds – _thousands_ – more incidents like this where the punishments are _real _and _much _worse."

Neal sighed again and resisted the urge to tiredly rub a hand over his face. "Yeah, yeah. I know. That's the only reason I haven't retired yet."

"And the fact that you're only thirty-six?" Tabernackle tried to lighten the mood.

Neal smiled a bit wearily at him. "Yeah," he conceded with a shrug. "That too." Then his mood darkened again as he said, "Can you guys bring them in?"

With a nod, the two agents went back down the stairs and to the car, opening one door and taking the two out. They both struggled at first, but then they said something to them that made them pale and follow along willingly. Meanwhile, Neal had gone back inside and grabbed a manila envelope off of the shelf by the stairs. After Peter and El had been pushed inside the house, Neal turned to face the agents, talking in a quiet voice but still loud enough for Peter and El to hear him.

"You guys got rid of the Feds?" he asked.

Tabernackle nodded, going along with it. "They're in the trunk. We'll dump 'em with the car in the Hudson on our way back."

Neal nodded and opened the flap of the envelope, flipping through the envelope. "Wonderful. I think this should be enough for your services today."

Halden took the envelope with a nod, saying, "Thank you, Mr. Caffrey."

"We'll be in touch," Neal said, closing the door. Then he turned back to Peter and El, who stood uncertainly in the front room, Peter looking protective and El looking terrified. Peter had his hands on El's shoulders in equal parts protectiveness and possessiveness.

"Well," Neal said, walking to the shelf to get a bottle of wine and a glass. After pouring it, he turned back to them, taking a sip. Walking over to them, he said, "I see you didn't even bother with buying anything before you tried to go the Feds for help." He took a sip, and then lowering it, he shrugged. "I suppose I don't really blame you. Freedom more important than clothes and all…still, I told you that I had ears everywhere. I wasn't lying, as you can now see." He set the glass on the table and put his hands in his pockets, trying with all he had to look casual and relaxed while simultaneously trying _not_ to look like he was trying. He _had _to go through with this – it was in his job description. But still, it felt all too real as he spoke to them.

"Still, that was a direct violation of at least three of my rules." He said. "And I warned you both of punishments."

"Then get on with it and punish us." El snapped, her resolve breaking through her fear. Neal smiled a little, almost unnoticeably, but still in an even voice he said:

"Yes, yes – I will." He looked thoughtful before he asked, "What do you think is a worthy punishment?"

They both blinked at him, surprised by the question. No "master" had ever asked them that before – they never cared, really. They weren't sure what to say.

Neal seemed to realize this, and he covered for them by saying, "Forgive me – I think out loud quite a bit." He turned slightly away from them and brought a finger to his chin in thought, speaking just loud enough for them to hear while it still looked like he was talking to himself. "Hm…three offenses of two people working together…on the phone…you use your hands for that…but then your voice too, I suppose…but the tongue rings are so _hideous_! Maybe hideous ones so they won't _want _to open their mouths…but then again it's _them_…I suppose something with feet because they tried to run…"

As Neal mused, Peter and El glanced at each other, wary. Then they looked back at Neal as he snapped his fingers and looked at them.

"I've got it," he told them, and then glanced down at his waist. "Well, I'm not going to use _this _belt." He looked back up at them, explaining, "Designer, and all. You understand."

Peter just shook his head and rolled his eyes as Neal went on to say, "I'm going to go find something to use. You two"—he pointed at them almost accusingly—"stay here."

As soon as Neal jogged up the stairs, El looked at Peter. "They're dead," she said softly. "The agents, I mean – the _real _ones…did you hear?"

Peter nodded tightly, lips set in a grim line. "I heard," he said gloomily.

"And Tabernackle and Halden were faking," El went on, as though Peter hadn't spoken. "They were working for Neal."

"Don't call him Neal," Peter said suddenly. El looked confused before he explained, "It's too familiar – it makes it too easy to become compliant."

El nodded, now understanding. "Right," she said. After a pause, she said, "It's like that book I read once – 1984."

Peter looked at her questioningly, waiting for an explanation. "What about it?"

"We are the dead," she said. "It said that a lot – 'We are the dead'. We really are though, aren't we? No one cares about us. We might as well be dead."

Peter quickly took her in his arms, hugging her tightly. "Don't say that," he said lowly. "Another part of that book said 'We are the living. As long as we love, they've lost. So we must _always _love, and we _will _win."

El smiled and gave him a quick peck on the lips. "I do love you, Peter," she said softly. "I just hope…"

She trailed off as they heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and then Neal came into view, holding an old belt. He looked rather relaxed if not happy, further convincing Peter that he was a horrible, bastard, son of a bitch with no heart. Peter and El pulled out of their embrace, but they still held hands in support for one another. When Neal came in and saw this, some look crossed his face, but Peter couldn't read it. It was gone as quickly as it had come, though, as Neal went on to say:

"Now, the way I usually do this, I have quite a lot of options for the slave – or slaves, as the case may be. Firstly, because there's two of you, one of you can take up to half of the other person's punishment. So if I were to give you ten lashings, one person could choose to take half of the other's and they'd get fifteen while the other person got five…you understand simple mathematics, I'm sure. You can also choose for it to be on your palms or your rear. I generally give lashings harder on the palms, because it's really less humiliating than being spanked. It all evens out. I don't require you to remove your pants, but if you do, I would probably give you half of your deserved lashings. Not to be nice to you, understand, but really because I'm not in the mood to see double moons any longer than I have to." He shrugged nonchalantly. "Any questions?"

Peter and El were silent, so Neal said, "Now. Whose idea was it to violate my rules first?"

"Mine."

"Mine."

Peter and El both spoke simultaneously, but after the words had left their mouths, neither of them took it back. Neal stared at them both for a moment before he said, "I don't believe you. I'll ask again: whose idea was it?" Both of them gave the same response they had before.

Neal sighed, looking almost regretful. "I will punish you both double if you're not honest with me. But if one of you tells the truth, I will give you half the punishment. Last time; third time's the charm. _Whose idea was it?_"

This time they didn't even bother answering, sticking with their original answers. Something shone in Neal's eyes – Peter wasn't sure what – before he finally sighed, saying, "Well, I'm in a generous mood, so I'll let this one slide. Twelve for each of you – who's first?"

Peter immediately stepped forward, putting out his hands, palms upward. "I'm taking half of hers."

Neal looked at Peter's eyes for a moment – at the love, resolve, and compassion – before looking down again, at the floor. "Of course you will," he said in a voice soft enough that Peter didn't hear him. His eyes welled with tears, but before they could fall, he gritted his teeth, blinking them back quickly before he looked up again, raising the belt.

* * *

**Hm…I'm not too happy with this chapter. I know what you're all going to say, about Neal punishing Peter and how unfair all of it is and how it's so WRONG…well, save it. I know it's unfair. I know it's bullshit. But that's the only way for Neal to come across as a real master for Peter and El, is by really punishing them…it's awful, I know! I don't like seeing Neal like this, either. But don't worry! It will all be okay in the end; this master/slave stuff just has to be all worked out first, and that may take awhile. So, let's be strong as we try to wade through this very dark, sticky, undesirable mud (Ya like my metaphor? :p). **

**Please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Well…I hope my writing of this story isn't written in a way that's too confusing to you all. In one person's review, (s)he was confused about what sort of world this is. Well, it's pretty much just like OUR world, but I don't think that the government would employ FBI agents specifically FOR pretending to be a slavemaster – I think that would be considered illegal and inhumane. As far as I could tell, however, the Office for Victim Assistance DOES focus on slave/human trafficking, though not solely. In this fic, that's ALL they do is help with that.**

**I think that covers all confusion…let me know if any of you have any more questions! I'm happy to answer them in PM or in the A/N before a chapter! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

"So you beat them."

"What was I supposed to do, Diana?" Neal asked exasperatedly, tossing a rubber band ball from his desk into the air only to catch it again. "I'm '_Master_', so I have to _test _them and _punish _them. This is nothing new to you – I've done this all before."

Diana put up her hands as though in surrender. "Oh, I'm not judging, boss. I'm just saying that it could've been avoided if you didn't give them the keys to the Volvo, a card with $3,000, and access to at least a few thousand people in the surrounding area. You _had _to know they were going to try and escape."

"I figured they would," Neal admitted. "Still, though, I thought they would do something like…I don't know, go out of their radius or try to cut the anklet. I didn't think he'd fucking call the _goddamn_ FBI office!"

"Would it have made any difference?" Diana said.

Neal shrugged. "I dunno. Probably. If they had just tried to run, I could've passed it off as bravery, doing it on their own or whatever. I thrashed Burke's hands _eighteen _times. Do you know what they looked like when I was done? Awful. It was _awful_ – his hands were all swollen up and had cuts all over them. I about cried. And then I had to go and thrash Elizabeth. Burke was at least a _little _more bearable, because I could just see his _hate_ for me written all over his face. But Elizabeth? She started _crying_. I don't mean sobbing and wailing, but tears just leaked out of her eyes and in that minute, she just looked so much like…" he cut himself off abruptly.

"Why are these two so much harder than anyone else you've dealt with?" Diana asked gently after a long pause.

Neal shrugged, a bit helplessly. "I see their love for each other," he explained. "It's so...raw, and open. I've never seen victims like that before with _anyone_. With Peter and Elizabeth, it's easier to believe that they're people - _real _people who had _real _lives, and not just a shell of themselves. They've been in the slave business - for I think it was _nine _years now - and they haven't broken, where most people would at a year or two. They stay sane _because _of their love - it's not fake, because they would get no gain from it. All of their barriers are dropped when they're around each other, like the other person is the only other one that matters to them."

Diana smiled a little, though it was a smile tinged with sadness. "That's because it's true," she said simply.

Neal glanced up at her sharply. "What's true?" he asked confusedly.

"No one else _does _matter to them," she said. "It's not a lie, or a con, or a trick. They _love _each other, and they care more about the other person more than they do themselves. For them, the other _is _the only one that matters." She saw the look on his face and sat down on the corner of his desk, leaning forward to put a hand on his shoulder.

"Look," she said gently. "I know it's been years since your own relationship...and you haven't let in too many women since then – "

"I'm not in the mood for this conversation," Neal said suddenly and bluntly as he stood up, shrugging off Diana's touch. He turned away from her and looked out the window, staring at the cars driving down below in the New York City traffic. It had always seemed ridiculous to him, the way they went about their business, naïve to the horrible events going on around them. They went about the same motions every day, with just a mundane, meaningless life ahead of them where they would make no difference in the world before they died. These were dark thoughts, he knew, but sometimes they just invaded his head without his permission. And he couldn't say that they were entirely wrong.

"Neal…" Diana said with a sigh, but she didn't touch him again, giving him some space. "All I'm saying is that you shouldn't be bothered by someone else's love. Affected, yes, but not…jealous."

Neal whirled around to stare at her. "I'm not _jealous_," he said firmly. "I'm _happy_ for them – _they're _under FBI protection, whether they know it or not, and they're going to be together until the day they die…maybe even after that. But why couldn't _I _have been that lucky? Why can't _I_ have that ending?"

"You can," Diana stated. "Just probably not with who you've always thought."

Neal looked at her sadly. "Yeah," he said softly, sitting back down in his chair. "That's probably true. But I just don't want to accept that."

* * *

Peter sat wearily on the couch, tipping his head back to rest on the cushion and closing his eyes. He'd been cleaning for two hours now, and he was tired. The house was _huge_, and he and El were supposed to clean it by the end of the day. Neal had told them that if they had their chores done by the time he got home from work at seven, he would get them a couple more outfits and shoes the next day at his lunch break. Although Peter hated the man, he knew he was serious, and if he was going to get back into his good graces to get his guard down to run with El again, he had to follow his rules. Plus, this one outfit that they had been provided with started to feel gross on his skin as he wore it two days in a row. He would appreciate something new and clean to change into.

Someone sat down on the couch next to him, and Peter opened his eyes to see that it was El (not that he'd really thought it was anyone else). She had her hair pulled up off of her face into a messy bun, and wisps of hair hung around her face. She was sweaty and tired from the work.

"You know we'll get in trouble if he finds out we were on the couch," she chided, but she didn't move from her spot either. Peter smiled a little when he saw this, and reached over to tickle her side. She laughed a little and batted his hand away.

"Stop that," she laughed.

Peter's smile became tender as he pushed some of her bangs out of her eyes. "It's been a while since I've heard you laugh," he told her. "I like it."

She smiled back at him, sort of teasingly. "Well, how can I help it when you tickle me? It's an impulse reaction to _anyone_, especially to a girl with nerves like – "

"No," Peter interrupted with a smile. "I mean it. You're..._happier _now."

El smiled tenderly at him and reached over to tug gently at the hair behind his ear. "That's because I love you, hon," she told him. "I'm glad we're together without the threat of being separated again. And you've got to admit, Mr. Caffrey doesn't seem like the cruelest man out there. He doesn't just _want _to hurt us for no reason."

In response to that, Peter held up his hands, showing her the red stripes crossing his palms. El took them in both of her hands and placed a kiss on each of them before pulling them down to rest on her lap with her own hands.

"We tried to escape," she said with a little shrug. "It may not be right by the eyes of the law, but he _did _warn us of consequences, and then he gave us lots of options with the beatings. Can you tell me of one 'master' that you've ever heard of doing that?" Peter shook his head, and she smiled. "He really thinks he's helping us, as skewed as his view is, and I don't think he ever plans on separating us."

Peter leaned forward and pecked her gently on the lips. "Let's hope so."

* * *

_He leaned exhaustedly against the splintering wood wall, shaking half from cold and half from tears. His fingernails were torn, hands bloody and raw. It was dark in the room, but the red still shone in front of his eyes like it was bright out - red from blood, red from beaten skin, red from hot anger...it was nothing new. He drew his knees up to his chest, putting his elbows on his knees and pushing his fingers through his hair. It was long now, matted from not being washed for weeks._

_He wasn't sure how long he had been down here. He only knew it was __**too **__long. He was tired, and hungry, and he was never taken out. He was forgotten._

**_No. _**_He pushed himself to his feet, using the wall as leverage. He couldn't let himself believe that - that he was forgotten. He was a person, a human __**being**__, not some __**dog **__or __**animal **__that someone could leave alone and expect to survive while on vacation. He was going to get free...sometime. He didn't know when, but he would. No one deserved this kind of life._

_The door opened suddenly, sending in bright beams of light from the hallway. With a pained gasp, he threw up his hands in front of his face and clenched his eyes shut at the blinding brightness. He heard a familiar cry of pain as someone was shoved down the stairs toward him, and then the door slammed closed again, once again leaving the room in its familiar darkness._

_"Honey?" he whispered with a hoarse voice._

_"I'm here," she whispered just as softly. A moment later, her hand touched his arm, latching on with familiarity. He pulled her closer to him, enfolding her into a hug as silent tears leaked out of her eyes._

_"It hurts," she whispered._

_He clenched his eyes shut as tears flowed freely down his face for her pain. A ran a hand through her tangled hair, speaking softly, comfortingly._

_"I know, honey," he said softly. "I'm so sorry."_

_"It's not your fault," she said simply, though she still sounded like she was in pain as she hugged him. "And soon, we'll be free. We'll be happy. We'll buy a nice little house and have kids and a dog and have a __**normal **__life. We can forget about all of this."_

_He squeezed her closer to him. "Yes," he agreed. "Soon."_

_As though they had jinxed themselves with these words, the door suddenly opened again. A sinking feeling in his gut, he stood, still keeping his wife in his arms._

_"You __**just **__had her!" he said defiantly, even though he couldn't see anything. "Can you have the decency to give her just a __**day **__and not come __**immediately **__rushing in?!"_

_There was suddenly pressure on the back of his neck as a huge hand grabbed it. "That's okay, handsome," a deep voice growled. "We didn't come for __**her**__. Seems someone wants to take __**you **__off our hands now."_

_His stomach plummeted to the ground. No. He was going to be sold again, this time not with her. That couldn't happen. Chances were high that they would __**never **__see each other again._

_He became aware that he was being pulled from her grasp, someone else pulling her back as well as she fought._

_"NO!" he shouted. His voice cracked from lack of water, but he ignored the discomfort. "Let me __**go**__, goddammit!" he kicked, trying to hit the man holding him, but he couldn't see where he was aiming and missed. He was given a kick to the back of his knees in return. With a pained gasp, he dropped to the ground. Undeterred, the man began dragging him up the stairs._

_"NO! Let me __**go**__!" Seeing this wasn't going to be happening, he began shouting to her. "I'll find you! I'll __**never **__give up!" he was outside the door now._

_Just before the door closed, he heard her response. "I love you!"_

_The door slammed shut._

* * *

He woke with a gasp, heart pumping rapidly in his chest as he tried to control his breathing.

A nightmare. That's all it was. A nightmare. But still, it was all too real. It had happened, years ago. But while he was sleeping, while his defenses were down, that was when the memory was most vivid, most visceral and heart wrenching.

With a sigh, he rubbed his hands tiredly over his face before climbing out of bed and going to the connecting bathroom. He ran cold water over his face a few times before staring almost stonily at himself in the mirror, remembering that night with vivid clarity.

_"Let me go, __**goddammit**__!"_

Shaking himself, he straightened up without bothering to dry his face. He ambled back to his bed on tired feet, and lifted the mattress to access the framed picture there.

A tear trailed out of his eye and down his cheek as he stared at the picture of his wife. He traced his finger over her hair, remembering that horrible night from several years ago.

"I'll find you," Neal whispered as a tear dropped on the spot above her eyebrow. "I'll never give up, Kate."

* * *

**Ba dum ****_tss_**** ;) You guys like the ending there? I know - Neal was a ****_slave_****?! I planned that from the beginning - I can assure you that it was not just a spur-of-the-moment thing and I know exactly where I'm going with this. (If you look back at the other chapters, you can see little clues hidden in there...:D) Not to worry! It will all be explained in a later chapter! I would love some reviews from you folks to keep me going! XD**


	5. Chapter 5

Sunday morning, Peter came down the stairs to see Neal lying on the couch, dressed in only burgundy satin pajama bottoms. His head rested against the armrest, and he stared at the ceiling, lost in his thoughts. Peter started to go for the kitchen to prepare breakfast, intending to ignore the man until he absolutely _had _to speak to him, but then Neal spoke.

"Peter," he called, glancing over to his general direction. "Come here."

Peter obeyed with an inward sigh of annoyance, walking over to stand beside Neal.

"Sit down," he said, nodding to the chair at his feet. Now a bit uneasy, Peter sat down hesitantly, tensed and ready to spring.

Neal gave him a little smile, though it looked weary and a little sad. "You're not in trouble, and I'm not gonna hurt you." Peter seemed only slightly appeased by this.

"You and Elizabeth..." Neal started, sounding a bit nervous. "You've been...slaves...for _nine _years now?"

"Ten," Peter corrected. "As of yesterday."

Neal nodded. "And you've always been sold together - someone always wanted _both _of you. Am I correct?" Peter nodded.

"What made a 'package deal', I suppose, more appealing to them than just one of you? How did you get to be so lucky that you got to stay together all these years?"

Peter studied him for several moments before he finally answered, "Sadistic people like you are the ones that always bought us. Usually they make me watch as they rape my wife - or vice versa, if they swing that way. When they're through, they send us right back to where _you _found us. And the cycle continues."

Neal shook his head and sat up, his eyes a bit darker than normal. "I _told _you, Peter - I'm _not _going to rape you guys, or have sex with you guys, or 'make love' - _whatever _you want to call it. That's _not _what I purchased you for."

"Then _why_?" Peter pressed. "Why _bother_? All we're doing is household chores - with how much _money _you have, couldn't you just hire a couple of _maids_?"

Neal was quiet for several moments before he said, "Several years ago, my wife was taken from me - kidnapped by some punk burglars. I've searched for her, but she's gone. She could be _dead _now, for all I know. I haven't seen or heard from her for _twelve years_, Peter, and it's been the worst twelve years of my _life_. I know what it's like to be separated from your one true love - your other _half _- and I wouldn't wish that on anyone. So when I saw you two so _madly _in love that day that I bought you, I knew I couldn't separate you two. You would've ended up like me, searching for what you _know _you'll never find."

"But why buy us in the _first _place?" Peter asked, though he was a little more subdued than before, touched by Neal's story.

Neal looked at him for a long moment before he shrugged. He was about to answer when they heard a noise upstairs. It almost sounded like El was in pain.

"She's been sick all morning," Peter explained to Neal's questioning look. "I'd better go...help her." He stood up and walked to the stairs, and then looked back at Neal. "I'll be back down to make breakfast in a few minutes."

"Don't worry about it," Neal told him, walking toward the kitchen. "You take care of Elizabeth - I'll just grab a bowl of cereal."

Peter paused, blinking in surprise at Neal's words, but then he heard El puking again and continued on his way.

* * *

"Peter! Just the man I wanted to see!"

Peter rolled his eyes at Neal and turned around to face him as he walked out of the kitchen. Neal was holding a slip of paper in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.

"Isn't it a little early for alcohol?" Peter said, his words tinged with annoyance.

"I have a friend who would be mortally insulted to hear you say that," Neal said easily, and took a sip of the wine.

Peter looked at the clock on the wall. "It's nine o' clock in the morning."

Neal shrugged. "He's a weird guy," he said simply. "Anyway, my point: I'm having a dinner party tonight, and I need these ingredients bought today." He held out the slip of paper. Peter took it as Neal continued, "It's better to buy them earlier, so that the best ones are still there."

"I haven't heard of _half _of these places," Peter protested as he scanned through the list of ingredients to get from certain stores.

Neal shrugged and took another sip from his wine. "Then I suggest you ask for directions while you're out."

"Why in the _world _would you have a dinner party on a _Wednesday _night?" Peter asked, looking up at Neal.

Neal shrugged. "Why not? Don't forget - early bird gets the worm. Better to leave sooner rather than later."

With an exasperated sigh, Peter turned and went up the stairs to get changed. Smiling to himself, Neal turned and went back to the kitchen.

* * *

Neal was scanning a case file in the dining room when he heard an odd sound coming from upstairs. He checked his watch - it was only ten-thirty, so Peter would still be gone, but El was still home. The odd sound came again, and Neal stood up, closing the case file and locking it in the cabinet behind him before walking up the stairs.

"Elizabeth?" he called when he got to the top. "Are you alright?" There was no response, only the quiet ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway.

"Elizabeth?" he walked further down the hallway, and then he heard that odd scraping sound again. He couldn't determine where it came from, so he kept walking. The hairs on the back of his neck tingled in warning and anticipation. He walked slower, senses on high alert.

Then he heard a sound behind him, and he whirled around, gun appearing in his hands as though by magic. Startled, Elizabeth took a step back, eyes wide with surprise.

"Elizabeth!" Neal exclaimed with relief, lowering the gun in his hands. "What are you - ?"

"Ssh!" El hissed quietly, stepping forward and pressing a finger to his lips. Standing on tiptoes, she put her lips right next to his ear.

"Someone is upstairs," she breathed, and then leaned back, looking at him with wide, scared eyes.

"Stay here," he directed her softly. Then he turned and went toward the stairs, gun held in both hands.

He went through each of the rooms, checking to see that they were empty. When he opened one of the doors near the end, he didn't see the silhouette standing in the space behind the door, and continued on his way, pulling the door closed behind him.

Then he heard the small click of the door opening again, almost unnoticeable in the silence, but it had him whirling around, bringing up his gun yet again. But then the guy knocked the gun from his hand and tackled him to the ground. Something crashed - a vase, maybe - as Neal fell. Neal landed on his back with a quiet "_oof_", and it took a moment for him to realize that the guy was crossing his arms together and holding them in place on his chest with one hand. Instinct immediately kicked in, and he brought a knee up to the man's balls. With a grunt of pain, the man loosened his grip on Neal enough that Neal could free his hands and punch the guy in the face, and then roll him around so that Neal was on top, stradding him at the waist with his knees. He grabbed the gun from the guy's holster at his waist and pointed it at the guy's face.

Now that he could pause and look at his face, Neal didn't recognize him. But that really didn't mean anything - he didn't recognize a lot of people that came into his house.

"Who are you?" Neal demanded, voice hard. "_Who sent you here?_"

The man shook his head bitterly. "You ain't gettin' nothin' outta me."

Neal pulled the safety switch and shoved it under the guy's chin. "I only ask once," he said in a deadly voice. He heard a sound behind him, perhaps a gasp, and he knew it was Elizabeth.

"Get out of here, Elizabeth!" he told her in a voice that could only be described as harsh.

The man below him laughed. "Another slave then, Caffrey? You go through those fast, I'd say."

"What do you know about me?" Neal demanded, pushing the gun further under his chin to express his point.

"Mr. Caffrey," El said behind him. "You shouldn't - "

"_Go!_" Neal ordered, turning ever so slightly to look at Elizabeth. But that was just enough time that the guy below him used the distraction to elbow him in the gut and push him aside while Neal was winded. Neal involuntarily clenched his hand into a fist, pulling the trigger of the gun. The gunshot echoed in his ears as he struggled back to his feet, pushing past Elizabeth and running after the man. He followed him down the two flights of stairs, but the guy had too much of a head start, and he was out the door and down the street by the time Neal had reached the front door. He ran out and looked all directions, but the man had vanished. Frustrated, Neal walked back inside and closed the front door none too gently behind him.

"_Dammit_!" he fumed, putting the gun on the coffee table. He pushed his fingers through his now messy hair, and looked up to see El standing timidly near the base of the stairs.

"You were supposed to _stay put_!" he told her in exasperation and anger. "I told you to _stay _so that you wouldn't get in the crossfire and be a distraction, and now he's _gone_!" he picked up the bowl sitting on the coffee table that he'd left from breakfast, and tossed it across the room in his anger. It shattered against the wall, just barely missing the light.

"_Fuck!_" he yelled, feeling helpless and not liking it.

"I'm sorry," El said in a voice almost as soft as a whisper. She'd never seen this angry side of the man, and she couldn't say that she wasn't a little afraid of what he would do in this state.

Neal didn't seem to have heard her as he pointed to her, and then the mess he'd made with the bowl. "You - clean that up," he told her in no uncertain terms. He began walking to the stairs. "I have to go deal with the damage the bullet made."

El obeyed readily, not wanting to make him any more angry than he already was. When she passed him, it was like she could physically _feel _his emotions rolling off of him in waves. She shivered a little in fear and nervousness and went to get the broom and dustpan.

* * *

Neal found the bullet lodged in one of the baseboards, but he didn't care too much about that. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and called Diana.

"What's up, boss?" Diana greeted.

"Someone showed up here with a gun," Neal told her bluntly. "Not sure what he wanted, but I've got his gun and one of his bullets lodged into one of the baseboards."

"The _gun _is lodged into a baseboard?"

"No. The bullet is," Neal said, in no mood for her teasing. "The gun is sitting on the coffee table downstairs. I'm the one that fired it, but his prints will probably be in the bullet cartridge. He probably came after Peter, but didn't know that he wasn't here."

"What's the problem, boss?" Diana asked him. "What are you not saying?"

Neal sighed. "Elizabeth was here," he told her. "I told her to stay put, and she didn't, so the guy used my distraction to get away. I blew up, and she's cleaning up the mess I made downstairs, probably too terrified to even look at me."

"So apologize," Diana said simply. "Explain that you were only worried for her safety, but it came out as anger."

"How do you know that that was the case?" Neal said.

"Because I know _you_, Neal, and you don't get angry because the guy got away. You get right back up and keep searching. Now get your ass downstairs and apologize before she throws up."

"Alright. I'll give you the gun and the bullet at dinner tonight."

"Fine. I'll bring evidence bags. See you then."

"Bye."

Neal hung up and went downstairs, back to the front room. He found El putting away the broom. It might've been his imagination, but she seemed to pale a little when she saw him. He beckoned her to come closer, and she did so a bit slowly, hesitantly.

"I'm sorry," she said again, not quite looking him in the eye.

Neal shook his head and took her hands, his stomach dropping to his toes when he found that they were trembling.

"No - _I'm _sorry," he told her. "I blew up, and threw a tantrum, and it's my fault. I shouldn't have blamed you."

She shrugged, but still didn't quite look at him. "It's alright," she told him. "You're the boss...master...person."

He shook his head. "It's _not _alright," he told her. "It was _my _fault that he got away, and I'm sorry that I scared you."

"Look, I'd rather you just cut this BS and punish me already," she told him, though she still stared down, away from his gaze.

Choking back tears at her honest words, Neal pulled her closer into a hug, resting his chin on top of her head.

"I'm not going to punish you," he told her. "I'm just glad he didn't hurt _you_." He let out a sudden laugh, breathy and relieved. "_God_, you remind me of my wife."

El started to pull away from him, and Neal realized suddenly how his words must have sounded to her. He released her from his hug, but he still kept hold of her arm.

"Not in _that _way," he told her seriously, and then chuckled in remembrance. "Kate was the most bullheaded girl I had ever met - I had to beg her to date me several times before she gave in, and that was only to get me to stop asking."

"What...happened to her?" El asked him, noticing his use of the past tense.

His eyes seemed to cloud over as he remembered. "That's a very long story, and not one for right now," he told her, voice tinged with sadness. He let go of her arm and turned to pick up the gun from the coffee table. "I'd better go get rid of this." He turned and walked up the stairs without another word.

El watched him sympathetically for several moments, and when she realized she was sympathetic, she immediately shook herself. She couldn't afford to get Stockholm Syndrome for this man - she would never get free if she did that. And it would be so much better to be free than to fear another one of his outbursts. Sure, he might blame himself _this _time and not punish her, but what about next time? When would he snap _completely_?

She felt something fluttering in her stomach, and she took a deep breath, but it was no use. She made it to the sink just in time to upchuck what little she'd eaten for breakfast.

_Damn Neal Caffrey, _she thought involuntarily as she washed out her mouth with the tap water. _Why can't he just be like a normal 'master' and stop giving me this stress as I try to make sense of his moves?_

* * *

**Please review? :D**


	6. Chapter 6

**Yay! Next chapter! I LOVE this one…hope you guys do, too! :)**

* * *

"Hey! Glad you could make it!"

Diana and Jones smiled at Neal and Jones said, "Of course! It was no problem - Ann here was in the mood for another get-together, anyway."

"We brought this to go with dinner," Diana said, giving him a bottle of champagne.

Neal took it and looked at the label, grinning. "Aww, you shouldn't have!" he said, and turned to Peter, who stood a few feet away. "Peter! Put this in ice for later?" With a nod, Peter took it and walked away as Diana and Jones came in.

"Reese and June are already here," Neal said with a smile, leading them into the dining room. "We're just waiting on Haversham and Sara."

"Don't tell me she's still with him," Diana said derisively.

"Six years and counting," Neal said with a grin.

"I suppose Alex isn't coming then?" Jones said as they walked into the dining room.

Neal chuckled. "Haversham chose Sara tonight." He put a finger to his lips, teasing, "Mum's the word."

Diana laughed easily as she sat in the chair Jones pulled out for her. Out of the corner of his eye, Neal could see Peter rolling his eyes and smiled a little.

"Reese, June," Jones said, sitting down in his chair next to Diana. "It's good to see you two again."

"And you, CJ," June said graciously with a smile, though to Neal it seemed a bit forced. When he saw her stealing glances at Peter and El, he understood - she had never liked how his job worked. He caught her eye and just gave her a look. She shrugged with a small smile, seemingly saying, _I can't help it. It's not right, but I'll help._

Neal gave her a small smile just as the doorbell rang again.

"And that's them," he said, and left the room to answer the door.

"...I don't _care _how efficient you think it is, Mozzie - I am not, under any circumstances, going to - "

"Neal!" Mozzie interrupted Sara, who stood next to him. "Good to see you again, _mon frere_. We were just discussing the possibilities of sending a grappling hook through the mail to help out a friend in Thailand."

"It's a long story that I'm sure Neal has absolutely no interest in," Sara said, rolling her eyes.

"Sara," Neal said with a dazzling smile. "You know it's always good to see you, beautiful as ever."

Sara leaned forward to hug him. "You too, Neal...why, again, couldn't _Alex _have come this time? You know I hate being paired with Chandra Bahadur Dangi here."

"Your resentment hurts, Half Suit. Let me just go back to the car and pick up the broken pieces of my heart - I'll see you guys back in the dining room in a couple of minutes."

Neal grabbed his arm before he could walk away. "Come on, guys - play nice. This is important. Alex couldn't come because she's in Bolivia right now, and we really need Peter and Elizabeth to buy this."

Mozzie sighed and walked in. "You owe me, Neal."

Sara rolled her eyes and then planted a fake smile on her face, slipping her arm almost possessively through his. "C'mon, 'Dante'. I'm sure we'll have _so much _fun tonight!"

* * *

The first hour was easy, quiet - _normal _- with all of them chatting about meaningless things - aka, gossip about people they supposedly knew who didn't really even exist. This was all so that Peter and El, who were standing by and ready to be called on, would get a feel of who they were supposed to be.

"...so that's how we figured out that she was really just pregnant and not a lesbian like we thought," Diana finished her story with a smile to her audience. Everyone dutifully laughed, and even though they'd heard the fake story several times before at previous dinner parties like these, it sounded like they had heard it for the first time.

"Sweetheart, you tell that story to everyone and it just never gets old," Jones said, resting a hand on her knee.

Diana grinned and gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Thanks, _sugar_."

"Okay, then!" Neal said suddenly with a teasing smile to the two of them. "Now that PDA is getting involved, I think it's time for dessert! Elizabeth?"

With a polite nod, Elizabeth turned to get the dessert from the kitchen, Peter following behind her to help.

"So," Hughes said after they'd left, "I see you bought two new amusements. How long has it been since the last one?"

Neal swallowed his champagne and set down his glass on the table. "Mm...I'd say a couple of months, give or take a couple of weeks."

"And you haven't laid either of them yet?" It was more a statement than a question, but Neal shook his head anyway.

"I told you - I don't buy people for that."

Hughes laughed. "Well, _I _do, and if you're so reluctant, _I'd _be happy to take the woman off your hands for a few hours."

This innuendo was made just as Peter and El walked in with desserts in their hands, and when Peter heard this, he visibly tensed as he glanced at Neal to gauge his response while trying not to look like he was paying close attention.

It was quiet for a brief, tense moment before Neal smiled and said, "Sorry, Reese. 'No' can do."

Reese shrugged dutifully, playing his part in the act. "Oh, well. I suppose we can't have everything we wish for."

Neal smiled and watched as Peter and Elizabeth passed out the gelato to the guests. While they both looked away, Hughes looked at Neal with a question in his eyes. Neal looked at Peter and El for a moment before he looked back to Hughes and shrugged. _It's your choice, but I can't say __**what **__will happen._

With a silent, imperceptible nod, Hughes watched as El approached him with his dessert. She put the bowl in front of him, and as she leaned down, he put a hand at the small of her back and whispered something in her ear. She leaned away from his touch with a polite smile and said, "Pistachio," and then continued on her way. Hughes looked at Peter, who had been watching him intently, and smirked. Anger flared in Peter's eyes, but he remained still in the doorway, obediently waiting for further instruction from Neal.

Sara let out a sigh of pleasure when she tasted the gelato. "Neal, this is the most _amazing _thing I've _ever _tasted. Where did you buy it?"

Neal turned to her with a smile. "Actually, Elizabeth here made it this afternoon. It was her own recipe, actually - she surprised me with this." He looked at Elizabeth and gave her a smile, knowing that she hadn't made it just to be nice - it was further apology from earlier that day, when she hadn't "stayed put".

Of course, Peter hadn't yet been told of the break-in, having been too busy making the dinner after getting home at three in the afternoon and immediately setting to work with the grueling cooking of dinner. So he just looked at El with a confused sort of stare, wondering why she was being nice. He wondered, as she had worried earlier, if she was developing Stockholm Syndrome for the man.

"Well, my compliments to you, Elizabeth," Sara said with a gracious smile. "You have to have a natural born talent to make something like this - it's truly awe-inspiring."

Elizabeth gave her a small smile at the kind words, a smile tinged with pride.

"Mm," Jones agreed as he pulled the spoon from his mouth. "_Wonderful _job, Elizabeth. This is superb." Elizabeth glowed with pride, and though she tried to hide it, everyone knew how much their words touched her at that moment.

"A woman of many talents," Hughes said. He winked at Elizabeth as he spooned some gelato into his mouth, and then took his time in licking the silver spoon clean, staring at Elizabeth the whole time.

"I would greatly appreciate it, _sir_, if you would stop eyeing my _wife _like she's a goddamn prize horse." The words were low and dangerous, coming from Peter at his post in the doorway. His eyes were sharp, cutting into Hughes like daggers, filled with hate.

Neal put up a calming hand toward Peter and said easily, "Relax, Peter. It's just a bit of harmless flirting."

But it was as though Neal hadn't spoken as Hughes stared straight into Peter's eyes, saying, "If she's the horse, I'd be happy to be the jockey."

Peter's face flashed to red anger in an instant at the not-so-subtle innuendo. "Why, you son of a - "

Neal leaped up and grabbed Peter's shoulders as he tried to leap forward to throw a punch at Hughes.

"Peter! Peter, you need to _calm down_," Neal tried to warn him, struggling to hold him back. But Peter didn't seem to hear him as he tried to swing a punch at Hughes, and then when he figured out that he was too far away, he tried to go for Neal to get him off of him. But Neal simply grabbed the fist and before he knew it, Peter was bent over in a headlock, arms held to his sides. Without a word, Neal pulled him into the kitchen even as Peter struggled to try and escape.

"Peter," Neal said sternly as he struggled to contain the man. "I know you're pissed off - I get it. But you need to calm down before this gets out of hand."

"'_This_' got out of hand when you brought that _bastard _- "

"Peter," Neal cut him off. "I get it. You have no _idea _how much I get it. But giving Reese a shiner isn't going to change his personality overnight. Now I'm going to let you go, but if you try and swing a punch at him or me again, you're going to be in trouble - and I mean more than just a little slap on the wrists. Do you understand?"

"Yes, _sir_," Peter said mockingly, but he seemed to be telling the truth, so Neal slowly let go of the man, watching him to make sure he wouldn't do anything sudden. He didn't, simply straightening his jacket with a huff and then going back out to the dining room without a glance back at Neal. With a little smile to himself, half of amusement and half of pride, Neal followed.

* * *

Elizabeth watched helplessly as Neal pulled Peter into the kitchen, clearly trying to calm him down. The older man's words had bugged her, yes, but it was nothing she or Peter hadn't heard before. She didn't quite understand why Peter was so..._angry _now. Neal had already said no to the man about basically loaning her out, and she didn't think she'd ever see him again after this night, so she just ignored the man's touches and innuendos and kept serving.

But now she didn't know what Neal - _Mr. Caffrey_, she couldn't think of him as Neal - would do to Peter as punishment for creating a scene, and for trying to hit him. She swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat and tried to calm the tightness in the pit of her stomach. She felt suddenly nauseous and quickly excused herself, going quickly to the bathroom down the hall. She had just thrown the toilet seat up when the vomit came bubbling up her throat and she leaned forward to empty it into the toilet.

She didn't know how long she knelt there, puking up her insides, but at some point she felt the hair lifted out of her face and off her neck. She wasn't sure who it was, but she was grateful for the help anyway as she emptied her stomach of food and acid - mostly acid.

"There, honey - just let out," a kind voice soothed as cool fingers pressed lightly against the back of her neck to cool her off. Elizabeth tried to place the voice, and then it clicked - she was the woman who complimented her gelato. What was her name? Sara? Then her thoughts were interrupted by the tickling feeling in her throat again, and she bent over the toilet, dry heaving for several more seconds before it finally seemed to be over, her stomach sufficiently calmer.

Still keeping her head in the toilet bowl, El reached up with her hand and flushed the toilet. After the water had settled again, she looked up at the pretty redhead who didn't seem to give a damn that she was in an expensive mauve dress as she knelt on the bathroom floor and held back her hair as she barfed.

"Thanks," El said with a raspy voice, and coughed as Sara put her hair back into place.

"Is this because of what Reese said?" Sara demanded, though not unkindly. "I know he can be a real bastard, but - "

"No," El shook her head and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "It's not him - he's fine."

Sara was quiet for a minute before asking, "Is it Neal?"

El nodded wearily. "Yes," she admitted. "I just...he's so _confusing_. I never know what he wants or what he plans to do, and I have a weak stomach, so when I get nervous..." she nodded to the toilet. "Well, you saw."

Sara sighed and sat down on the ground, leaning against the wall. "Yeah...Neal can be frustrating even on his best days. But when it counts, he's there."

"Maybe for his friends," El said almost gloomily. "Peter and I are just commodities that he happened to buy."

"But he _protects _you guys," Sara pointed out.

"We wouldn't even _need _protection if we were free to _begin _with and not some _toys _for a poor little rich boy to play with when he feels like it!" El exclaimed. "How is it that you can even _accept _what he does - this is _illegal_ and it's happening right under the noses of the law!"

_You have no idea, _Sara thought, but said, "Neal is my friend. He _has _been for years now. If _Peter _did something wrong, would _you _turn _him _in?"

"Peter wouldn't - "

"But if he _did_," Sara insisted. "If he did happen to go rogue, what would you do?"

"Well, I'd..." she trailed off as she stared at Sara, truly thinking about the question.

After a moment, Sara nodded. "We'd all like to _think _that we would do the right thing if we were ever faced with that type of situation, but the fact of the matter is, most of us _wouldn't _do anything to stop it. We don't want to betray our friends, and that's understandable. It's wrong, yes, but we all live with our actions. And you have to admit, Neal isn't the cruelest or most sadistic or even the meanest 'master' out there. By buying you and Peter, he really did you both a favor."

"But why _is _he so different from all the others?" El asked her. "Why isn't he interested in anything...sexual?"

Sara stared at her for several moments before she finally said, "I probably shouldn't tell you this - and Neal would probably _kill _me if he found out - but...Neal used to be a slave, too."

El blinked, taken off guard by the sudden revelation. "What?"

Sara gave her a sad smile. "It's true. He and his wife, Kate, were taken thirteen years ago, in the middle of the day, from their apartment in Queens. They were originally sold as a pair, and this went on for about a year, but then one day someone wanted to buy just him. They were separated...and Neal promised her when he left that he would never give up on finding her." Her smile became even more sad, if possible, as she continued, "The day they were taken, they had only been married for eighteen days. He was twenty-one.

"My point, Elizabeth, is that Neal knows what it's like - losing the single most important person in your life without the knowledge of when or _if _you'll ever see them again. He doesn't want anyone else to go through that, so he frequently does something like what he's doing with you and Peter - he takes you under his wing like a mother hen and tries to help you guys. I'll admit, it _would _be better if he went about it in more legal ways, but when he was a slave, they screwed with his head, and he just hasn't been the same since then. But overall, he's a really nice guy and I can promise you that if you talk to him, it will be _much _easier working for him and you won't be having quite so many of _these _incidents." She nodded to the toilet with a smile.

"How am I supposed to talk to him?" Elizabeth sighed. "How in the _world _am I supposed to - "

Sara smiled and leaned over to straighten her hair back into place. "It doesn't have to be all at once," she said gently. "Approach it slowly, through bits and pieces of conversation, and he'll pick up on it fairly quickly. When he starts to figure out your feelings on it, he'll be the one to approach _you_ - and _then _you can have a long conversation about it."

"And if that doesn't work? What then?"

Sara sighed and slipped her arm around El's shoulders. "I don't claim to be psychic," she said, "But I get the feeling that you're afraid of him because he's different. From other people who've bought you, I mean. He's new, foreign, and you don't know how to read him."

"So?"

"Neal _is _different - that's true. He looks at you and Peter like...like servants. He doesn't think he's hurting you, and he thinks that everything he does to you is fair. He's never gone after you or Peter on a sexual level, and not just because of his background with Kate. He believes that marriage is something sacred, not to be tampered with, and that little scene downstairs a minute ago? Peter's not going to get punished for that."

"How do you know?" El asked, hope shining in her eyes. She was sure Peter would get a sound hiding for that little outburst, and as many times as it had happened to him before in the past years, it still turned her stomach at the thought.

"Because," Sara said simply. "Peter was defending your honor. I'd bet that if Neal made even the smallest reference to you on a sexual basis and Peter _did _succeed in punching him in the face, Neal would simply smile and forget about it, because he was defending _you_. Neal may not admit it, but he admires Peter. I've seen it in the way Neal has been looking at him all night. Even in your circumstances, you guys are still fighting, and he likes that. Not because it's exciting or a brand new challenge, but because Neal is of the belief that women are special. They're not just toys - or _commodities_, as you put it - but they - _we _- have a special purpose here. He doesn't believe that people should be put down just because of their status, and that's why he never assaults you sexually, or lets anyone _else_, for that matter."

"He is a confusing son of a bitch," El stated with a sigh.

Sara nodded and quirked a smile at her. "Cocky, confusing, arrogant, charming...but he's the best damn son of a bitch I've ever met." She stood up, and then put a hand out to help El up. "C'mon. They're probably missing us by now."

* * *

**Tehe. I love El and Sara together. :) And I have a big surprise coming up for y'all…a couple of you may have already guessed it by tiny clues I've implanted in the past chapters…hope several of you are surprised, though! And now, I'm off to edit the next chapter!**


	7. Chapter 7

"...green chilies, avocados, oranges...ooh, and bananas - those sound yummy right now. Mangoes and cilantro would be good too, so that I can make some salsa for fajitas tomorrow night. Oh, and a bag of chocolate chips - Mr. Caffrey asked me to make cookies while he was at work today. And how about - ?"

"Why don't you just write a list?" Peter interrupted his wife with a smile. It was Friday, two days after the dinner party, and Neal had put 'grocery shopping' as one of the chores on the list he'd left on their bedroom door.

"Hey, hon?" El said a few minutes later as she followed Peter's advice and wrote down the grocery list.

"Yeah?"

"Do you know what Mr. Caffrey does for a living?" _Milk...coffee creamer..._

"People probably pay him to drown their neighbor's kittens in the river because they keep pissing in their garden."

El looked up from the list and gave her husband a scolding glare. "Peter," she admonished. "I'm serious."

"Honestly, I _wouldn't _be surprised if that's what he did. Actually maybe I would be – surprised that people pay _him _instead of doing it themselves...and that such a job even _existed_."

"_Really_, Peter," El insisted. "He's never mentioned it, and he doesn't have any papers or clues to his profession _here_, so what does he do that he has so much money?"

"You mean besides the fact that he's keeping the two of us illegally under his roof and is making us do all of the household work? I think that's a pretty big clue _there_."

El sighed and continued writing out the grocery list. "Okay, hon. I still think he does something else, though."

"We should try and get free again," Peter said a few minutes later as he stared at the ceiling.

El looked up from where she wrote _grapes _on the grocery list. "What?"

Peter looked up at her. "Well, he's gone, and we know he _will _be until at least eight o' clock tonight, and that gives us almost eleven hours to distance ourselves between him and us."

"The trackers," she reminded him, sticking out her leg to jog his memory about the piece of jewelry. "If we try to cut them, it will shock us unconscious and he'll be here."

"Then let's go to the _actual _police station – or better yet, straight to the FBI offices. That way he won't be alerted about us trying to escape and get his guys there to kill the _real_ guys and take us back."

El thought, and then nodded. "That just might work," she agreed, rising to her feet.

They started for the door, but when El stepped onto the porch, her tracker began beeping. She looked down and saw the light flashing yellow in warning, and when she took another step forward, her ankle began tingling with electricity as it traveled through the anklet in warning. She looked up at Peter, who stood a few feet in front of her, the light on his anklet green.

"You were supposed to go grocery shopping," El said with realization. "I don't have any reason to leave today."

"Your radius must be confined to the house," Peter said with a look of dismay on his face. He sighed. "I suppose it's a good way to make sure I don't run. He knows I would never leave without you."

"You still have to go," El insisted. "Go for help at the police station, or the FBI…I can wait here."

Peter shook his head and stepped back into the house. "No," he said simply. "I can't risk something going wrong. We'll wait."

* * *

Neal stared at his computer at that very moment, watching on the tracking data to see what would happen. It had started beeping when Elizabeth's tracker began to get to the edge of her radius, and he had immediately pulled up the window that showed hers and Peter's locations. They were both at the house – the dot that represented Elizabeth shone yellow, and Peter's green, almost right on top of it. He zoomed the map in closer so that the dots weren't right on top of each other, and saw that Peter was further from the house than Elizabeth was. The dots remained still for several moments before they both went back inside the house. Elizabeth's tracker blinked back to green.

Neal drummed his fingers on the tabletop for a minute or so, and then he finally leaned forward, using the mouse to change Peter's radius to exclude the FBI office and the surrounding quarter mile. He left the police station open. Then he watched as Peter's dot moved out of the house several minutes later, going in the direction of the grocery store. He watched for almost ten minutes as Peter stayed in the grocery store before finally going back to his case files, trying in vain to push the couple out of his mind. To keep up his image, he would have to punish them somehow…he just wasn't sure how. He didn't want to hit them again, but he didn't really want to do anything else to them either.

It was around three o' clock that afternoon that he finally figured it out, after Peter got home from grocery shopping without going for help. He took out his cell phone from his pocket and called the home phone, which he had told Peter and El was the only phone that they could answer or call on – it was programmed to only call or receive Neal's cell phone number. Elizabeth picked up on the fourth ring.

"Yes, Mr. Caffrey?" She said so sweetly that Neal felt even worse for doling out this semi-punishment.

"I'm eating out tonight with a co-worker – don't worry about making dinner tonight."

It was quiet for a moment before she said tentatively, "And _us_, Mr. Caffrey? What would you like us to eat?"

Neal swallowed and then said smoothly, "There are a couple of squash in the pantry – you can split the smallish _yellow _one and prepare it however you like. I'll see you tonight." Without another word, he hung up the phone.

He stared at the phone in his hands for several moments before he stood up, slipping it into his pocket and going out to the bullpen.

"Diana!" he called to where she sat at her desk, and gave her the infamous two-finger point.

"Yeah, boss," she said when she got up to him. Giving her a smile, he said:

"How would you like to go to dinner with me tonight?"

* * *

El stared at the phone, hearing the dial tone for several moments before she finally hung up. Peter walked in then, and noticing her expression, he quickly walked over and enfolded her in a hug.

"What's wrong?" he asked concernedly. "What'd he say to you?"

"He knows we tried to escape," she said almost tonelessly. Peter's eyebrows shot up in equal parts surprise and concern. "How could he have known? We didn't call, or – "

"Who cares _how _he knew?" she demanded. "He told us we could have a small yellow squash for dinner and that's it."

Peter crinkled his eyebrows together in confusion. "That is by far the _weirdest _punishment I've _ever _heard of," he stated.

"I think the point is that it's yellow," she said. "He didn't actually come out and _say _that he knew, but it was pretty clear when he stressed 'yellow'…you know, like the light."

Peter nodded and then said strongly, "Well he can go fuck himself. I just went to the grocery store, so he doesn't know what I bought – we can eat something else too, as long as we don't have to cook it or something like that that he'll know that we ate it."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" El said hesitantly. "I mean, he knew about our escape attempt – don't you think that he'll be able to find out that we ate something else, too?"

Peter shook his head confidently. "No. No one is _that _smart."

Elizabeth smiled suddenly and said, "Well in that case…what should we eat first?"

* * *

Neal walked in to the kitchen around nine-thirty that night, going to the fridge and putting the leftovers from his dinner inside. The house was dark, quiet, and after listening for a moment, he heard Peter and El in their room above his head. He began to walk out of the kitchen to go upstairs to his own room, but when he passed by the trash can, he saw three banana peels, not appearing to be too old. He knew that Peter and Elizabeth would probably eat something else, finding some loophole to his instructions…but he hadn't even been trying to look for the evidence proving it. The peels sat right on top of the rest of the trash, open and obvious, as though they had been trying to test him to see if he'd notice or care.

Neal closed his eyes in exasperation. In some ways, this would be so much easier if they were compliant – he wouldn't have to play the part so much and punish them so often. But then he would surely have different challenges – being able to pass himself off as a real master, for example. He wouldn't be able to have the nice persona he was giving the Burkes – if they were compliant they would find it unnerving and have panic attacks and mental breakdowns. That had happened on more than one of Neal's assignments, and he'd eventually figured out what the issue was and fixed it. But with the Burkes being so damn _brazen _in their defiance, Neal had no choice but to notice and punish them for it.

He sighed and opened his eyes when he heard a sound at the door. In the dim lighting, he could see that it was Elizabeth. They stared at each other for several moments, blue eyes illuminated from the light from the dining room. Finally Neal spoke, purposely making his voice flat and emotionless.

"You ate bananas."

El nodded. "_I_ did," she said simply. "Not Peter."

Neal knew she was lying, but he brushed it aside, saying, "I told you there were consequences for breaking rules. And following my directions is one of those rules. I told you on the phone that you were only to have the squash – did you even _tell _Peter my directions?"

El didn't answer directly, saying instead, "Just get on with it already."

"Where's Peter now?" Neal said, ignoring her previous comment. "Isn't he supposed to be your knight in shining armor?"

"He's upstairs," El said in a steely voice. "He thinks I'm merely bidding you good night."

Neal nodded once and then folded his arms, staring at her for a minute before saying, "And what do you think is a fair punishment, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "I didn't do anything wrong," she said plainly. "It's my right as a person to eat what I need to survive."

Neal knew what he needed to say, he knew protocol in this situation, but still he couldn't bring himself to say the horrible words, to tell her that she was a slave, a _no one_. Even behind her mask of defiance, he could see that vulnerability, just below the surface, and he knew that she would break if he said those words, even if she was broken only for a little while. And he didn't want her broken. He didn't want her to be like…Kate. She had broken – after eight or nine months, the stress of being repeatedly raped, day after day, she had finally stopped fighting. So Neal had fought _for _her. As she rose to meet another man, still hating it but thinking she had no choice, he had fought. He'd broken bones and skin to get them to stop taking her, but in the end it hadn't helped.

He couldn't do that again – not for Kate, and not for Elizabeth. He was sure that if he did, he would finally break down after so many years, and he would be a shell of himself, just like he had seen in so many people who went through his house on his assignments.

Elizabeth watched the expression on Neal's face changing, one of alertness and also what looked like longing. She had never seen this look on his face before, and she could feel her stomach tightening in anxiety and unease as she watched him. What was he going to do – to her – and more importantly – to _Peter_?

Neal came back to the present as he saw nervousness spreading across Elizabeth's pretty features. He was about to say something when suddenly her face paled and she fell forward and to the ground. Neal couldn't see her because of the island obstructing his view, but he could hear retching sounds and something splashing onto the wood floor. Without a second's thought, he darted over and saw El on her hands and knees, kneeling in her own vomit even as she continued to retch.

"Elizabeth!" Neal exclaimed, dropping to his knees beside her and ignoring the puke getting on his slacks. "Why didn't you tell me you were still sick?!" He took hold of her elbow, and she tensed for a moment, but he simply lifted her to her feet, helping her over to the sink where she dry heaved for several seconds before more acid flowed from her mouth. At last, she stopped, breathing heavily as she leaned her forearms against the counter and bowed her head down tiredly. He rubbed soothing circles on her back as she breathed, remembering when he was young and his mother would do the same for him. It had always made _him_ feel better – he just hoped it was doing the same for her.

"Sorry about your floor," El finally said, trying to rise. "I'll clean it up right away, Mr. Caffrey."

Neal shook his head and gently pressed between her shoulder blades to get her to lean against the counter again. "No," he said, "Don't worry about it – _you_ just focus on feeling better now."

"But your floor…"

"Will be fine," Neal finished for her. "I'm more concerned about _you_. Why didn't you _tell_ me you were still sick? You should be getting better – not _working_. _God_, I feel like an ass. And this has been going on for _six days _now? Why didn't _say _anything?"

El let out a shaky breath and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Actually, it's been for a couple of weeks now – Peter just didn't find out until Sunday, so of course _you_ would've found out. And usually by the evening I feel fine…I didn't want to make you upset."

Neal shook his head, angry with himself for not noticing that something was wrong sooner. "God, Elizabeth – I'm sorry. I wouldn't be _upset_ if you told me you were sick – I would just tell you to get some sleep and get _better_. I know…" He cut himself off, eyebrows crinkling at a sudden thought before he said cautiously, as though choosing his words carefully, "You feel fine by the evening?"

El nodded with her head still bowed over the sink and then shrugged. "Unless you do something that makes me nervous – like pulling my husband into the kitchen in a headlock."

"I want to try something, if that's okay with you." Neal said. El tensed automatically at his words and turned her head to look at him with guarded eyes.

"It's not going to hurt you," he told her hurriedly, though still gently. After looking at him warily for a few moments, she nodded her head, straightening up.

Wrapping one arm about her shoulders, he pressed her back against his body for support and put one hand on her stomach, palm open. She tensed at once, curling her hands into fists, but Neal simply said, "Relax, Elizabeth." After she had forced herself to calm down – _he's not like that, he's not going to, he's not__** like**__ the others _– he suddenly pressed his palm against her stomach and then released the pressure as quickly as it had come. He felt a small fluttering beneath his hand, under her skin, and his eyes went wide.

"Did you feel that?" he whispered, unable to completely hide his awe. She nodded, eyes even wider than his as she did as he had done, pressing her own palm against her stomach. There it was again – that small fluttering she'd thought was her stomach churning acid right before she puked.

"Elizabeth…" Neal said, slowly releasing her from his hold, "I think you're pregnant."

* * *

**HAHAHA! YES! El being pregnant; that was my surprise for you guys – hope you enjoyed it! (More details will come later, I promise!) As far as the reviews told me, only AmyFallsDownTheStairs figured it out – and in Chapter 5! Good job, AFDTS! She picked up on it as soon as the morning sickness was introduced…hehehe. **

**I hope more of you DID figure it out at some point (even if it was in the middle of this chapter), even if you didn't tell me, but if not, I'm just happy that I've woven this story so…secretively, for lack of a better word, that you were SHOCKED by this revelation!**

**Anyhow…please review, guys! XD**


	8. Chapter 8

**Yay! I got this chapter up! It's been sitting in the doc manager for eight or nine days now, but I thought I had updated before I went out of town last week! (Whoops!) Not too bad of a wait, but if I had to wait a whole 10 days after Chapter 7, I'd be freaking out a little too, so...anyhoo, not to worry! This chapter is mostly fluff stuff (that rhymed! :p) but I still love it. Hope you guys do, too! :)**

* * *

"Yep, it's an affirmative. I'd say you're about four months along." Mozzie looked up from his ultrasound equipment at Elizabeth, who was still wide-eyed after receiving the news an hour earlier. She grasped Peter's hand in her own, and he looked only slightly less wide-eyed than she. They stared at the ultrasound on the screen a couple of feet away, where they could see a small child curled up. They hadn't been able to tell if it was a boy or a girl, but still. Elizabeth was going to be a mother, Peter a father.

"So when I bought Elizabeth, I really bought her _and _her baby," Neal said, where he stood off to the side of the room, giving them privacy while still being able to know what was going on. He was still trying to process it - in his ten years with the FBI, with all of his assignments, none of them had ever been pregnant. He wasn't sure what to do in this situation, and it left him feeling a bit off-balanced.

Mozzie nodded at Neal's observation and began to put away the equipment as he spoke. "Of course, we won't be able to tell who the father is, considering your...situation beforehand." He was trying to be diplomatic as he referred to El being repeatedly raped before Neal bought her, but El didn't really care at that moment. She stared down at her exposed stomach in what could only be described as wonder, and Neal decided to give her and Peter a few minutes of privacy. He pulled Mozzie from the room, closing the door behind him.

"What am I supposed to do now?" Neal hissed to Mozzie. "How the hell am I supposed to deal with a _baby_?"

Mozzie calmly raised an eyebrow. "Well, if you keep the Burkes long enough for it to be born, I would assume it would be washed, fed, take a nap every hour..."

"_Seriously_, Mozzie," Neal said in exasperation. "I didn't sign up to care for a _pregnant _woman - if I cause her too much stress, she could lose the baby and I couldn't live with myself if I did that. But I'm supposed to be 'master' - how am I supposed to do that _without _causing stress? And, _oh my god_ - she needs a new anklet; one that doesn't shock her. There's enough voltage that it will only knock her unconscious, but a baby would be _killed _by that! And I can't _not _give her food - _that _might hurt the baby, too! And I can't use Peter for her punishment either, because - "

"_Neal_," Mozzie said firmly. "Be quiet, for _just a minute_, and _listen_. How about instead of the threat of punishment, you give them an incentive to be obedient?"

"Like what?"

"Like...if they're obedient till the baby is born, you'll let them go."

Neal gave him a look. "I can't promise them that. I don't know if I'll have the information I need by then."

It was Mozzie's turn to give Neal a look. "Really? In five months, you can't figure out what Peter knows? I think you're losing your touch."

Neal shoved him lightly in the shoulder. "Shut up, Moz. It's just a precaution. And besides, what if the baby comes early? What if it _does _die, through natural causes? I can't let them go if I don't have what I need."

"I'm sure you'll figure something out," Mozzie said. "You always do."

Neal rolled his eyes. "Thanks for nothing, Moz."

* * *

Neal figured out what to do that night as he lied in bed, staring into the inky blackness of the room. Peter and Elizabeth were no doubt already asleep downstairs, but he hadn't been able to, anxiety twisting in his stomach. He didn't want the baby to be harmed in any way, but he still had a job to do. Hughes would have his balls if he didn't do what he was supposed to.

He didn't know how he hadn't anticipated something like this happening. He knew that Elizabeth had been raped several times before he bought her, but he hadn't really thought about the possibility of a pregnancy. He wondered if Kate had ever gotten pregnant. He knew that if she had, the baby wouldn't be his - they'd slept together when they were free, but when she started getting raped, she hadn't been able to stand the thought of it again, and he had respected that.

Then he shook himself; he couldn't think about Kate right now. He thought about his plan for Elizabeth and Peter, and a small smile curved his lips. He hoped they would be happy when they found out the next morning.

* * *

"We _can't _risk the _baby_, Peter!" Elizabeth hissed quietly to Peter as she cut a pineapple to go with breakfast. It was six-thirty, and Neal was still getting ready upstairs. They expected him to come down at any second. Peter was trying to come up with another escape plan, but El wouldn't hear of it. She was afraid of what Neal would do as punishment, if it would harm the baby. She didn't want to risk him giving some kind of punishment to _purposely _impact the baby now that he knew about it.

"It won't be a problem if we can succeed," Peter insisted. "If it works - "

"Yes, Peter. _If _it works. What if it _doesn't_? These trackers can be controlled manually - what if he sees us trying to run and uses it? That will _kill the baby_, Peter. I _can't _risk it."

"So is that what the next five months are going to be like?" Peter said. "Refusing to even _try_?"

"_Yes_, Peter. I don't want the baby to be hurt - or _worse_." She sighed and put down the knife, looking up at him.

"Are you upset because it's not your biological child? Is _that _what this is? Because _I _can't help that, and I think you should still love it just the same, like me. I don't want to get rid of it."

Peter's face went from exasperated to shocked in an instant and he quickly went over to enfold her in a comforting hug.

"No, of course not!" he said. "I'm happy that you're pregnant. I _am _a little upset that it's not mine, but I still love it as though it is. I don't want anything to happen to it either, and that's why I want us to get out of here, before Caffrey _does _do something to jeopardize it."

"Then let's wait a bit," El said, turning to peck him on the lips. "He's probably still trying to process it too and is figuring out what to do - let's wait and see his thoughts."

A couple of minutes later, Neal came in, looking cheerful. He was dressed and ready for work, but instead of sitting at the table, he simply reached in front of El and picked up one of the slices of pineapple that she hadn't had the chance to cube yet, taking a bite. Both of them were surprised - they had never seen him eat without utensils before, and certainly never standing at the counter.

"Don't worry about anything fancy - I have something to tell you guys." Neal said after finishing the slice of pineapple. "Feel free to eat while I talk." Both of them ate obediently, not in the mood for it but careful not to irritate him.

Leaning against the counter, Neal said, "First of all, I'm not interested in harming your child, so you don't need to stress about that. On the contrary, I am very vested in helping this baby and making sure he or she is born healthy and without fail."

"Why?" El asked after she had gotten over her initial surprise.

Neal shrugged. "I bought _you_, not the baby." he answered. "It's not fair to subject someone to this kind of life as soon as they're born."

"But it's okay if they were kidnapped," Peter said dryly.

Neal shrugged. "That, Peter, is a _very _long story that will take _way _too much time to explain." he stated. "But, back to my point. I don't believe in the 'train them while they're young' mentality, and I don't want this baby to have any complications, so I obviously shouldn't use corporal punishment on you _or _Peter, because of that whole stress/worry factor. So I've decided that I would make a new deal with you guys. If you follow the rules and do everything you're supposed to, in five months - when the baby is born - I will let you go free."

Peter choked on the grape he'd just swallowed, and coughed for several seconds before it finally went all the way down and he looked up at Neal.

"_What?_" he choked. El looked stunned, staring at him as though trying to figure out what he was hiding.

Neal shrugged nonchalantly, as though his offer was nothing, though inside he was pleased by their reactions. "Like I said, the baby doesn't deserve this life. But, I will make an exception if you disobey me again. For every rule broken, you will have another month tacked on after the baby is born. Even if it's just Peter that breaks a rule, _both _of you will have another month." He smiled and took another slice of pineapple. "Any questions?"

* * *

"She's _pregnant_?" Diana looked shocked and amused at the same time.

"Don't look at me like that," Neal grumbled. "She's _four months _along – I haven't even had them for three weeks yet."

"That's not even what I had in mind, boss." Diana said with a grin. "I was just thinking that it's going to be amusing when the baby is born, and because they're bound to try and escape again, you're going to have a wailing infant under your roof. How are you _ever _going to _deal _with that?"

"Are you trying to say that I won't be able to get the information from Peter in the next five months?" Neal demanded, though there was a trace of teasing in his voice. "Maybe _you _should try dealing with them for a day – see how easy it is _then_."

Diana laughed. "Sorry, _no_. I saw Peter's rebelliousness when I came for dinner. I don't know if I can deal with that _all _the time."

"He's not usually so physical," Neal said with a shrug. "Hughes just really pissed him off."

"Yeah. I could see that." Diana said, still grinning. "Why is _he _always the pervert, anyway? Why not Mozzie?"

Neal let out a laugh. "Mozzie? _Flirting_? Can you _really _see him pulling that off enough to be looked at as a pervert?"

Diana shrugged. "Fair point. He plays the cheating boyfriend better, anyway."

"And the doctor," Neal added. "If he'd been the pervert, I don't think Peter would've let him give Elizabeth the ultrasound. And do you think _Hughes _has an ultrasound machine in his basement like Mozzie does?"

"Definitely not."

"My point exactly."

* * *

**Please review and I'll get the next chapter up ASAP!**


	9. Chapter 9

_The drug made him submissive, easy. He followed his master willingly when the drug was in his system, though he couldn't see anyone clearly through the drugged haze. He couldn't tell who was master, though, so he just followed what everyone said. Everything echoed in his ears, people moved slowly._

_"II don'tdon't thinkthink youyou heardheard meme correctlycorrectly, GeraldGerald. II willwill onlyonly paypay halfhalf forfor aa druggiedruggie..."_

_He tuned out the words, eyes searching in vain for his wife. Something was wrong with her...they gave her some of the drug, too, didn't they? That was bad...wasn't it? But __**he **__felt so __**good **__right now, so it couldn't be __**all **__horrible. He was floating, drifting in his own world._

_"...__**andand **__they'rethey're AmericanAmerican. I'veI've alwaysalways soldsold youyou LatinasLatinas soso ofof __**coursecourse **__thesethese twotwo areare goinggoing toto bebe moremore expensiveexpensive."_

_He felt mildly irritated. These voices were grating in on his daydreaming - he just wanted to be left in peace._

_"Finefine. Butbut II cancan onlyonly paypay forfor oneone."_

_"Nono dealdeal. Theythey comecome asas aa packagepackage."_

_"I'veI've boughtbought fromfrom youyou forfor nearlynearly thirtythirty yearsyears nownow andand you'veyou've nevernever insistedinsisted onon aa packagepackage."_

_"Timestimes areare changingchanging, O'DonnellO'Donnell. Getget themthem offoff mymy handshands oror I'mI'm donedone workingworking withwith youyou forfor goodgood."_

_"Finefine, finefine. Here'shere's youryour moneymoney. What'swhat's wrongwrong withwith themthem thatthat youyou wantwant toto getget ridrid ofof themthem soso muchmuch?"_

_"They'rethey're inin lovelove."_

_The rest of the men's words faded out as he succumbed to the inky darkness of his mind._

* * *

Peter's eyes flashed open and he sat up in bed, startled by his dream and the feelings that accompanied it. It seemed so odd…he didn't remember anything like his dream happening in _real _life…but it had felt so _real_. Yes, he knew he had been given drugs before, things as small as marijuana to bigger things like heroin. They had been given forcefully to make him more submissive and easier to transport when he was sold to someone else. He remembered his withdrawals with vivid clarity, the panting and moaning in pain in some cell or other as he came off of it.

"Peter?" El rolled over in bed when she felt him sit up. "What's wrong?"

Peter shook his head and lied back down. "Nothing, hon," he said placatingly, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Go back to sleep."

El let out a hum, accepting his words, and in moments he heard her light snores. He lightly squeezed her shoulder – she was so trusting. He wished, not for the first time, that he was as well. Even after all of the hell that she'd been through, she still managed to keep a lot of her innocence about her, of the belief that everyone had _some _goodness in them, whether some were as obvious as others or not.

He sighed and rolled over, hoping that he could escape his nightmares for just a couple of hours and get some sleep.

* * *

At the very same time in his own room, Neal was struggling with his own nightmares. He thrashed in the bed, frequently calming for a few seconds before writhing again as though in pain. Sweat drenched his body, his sheets got tangled with his legs, he choked as his throat kept constricting, but he just couldn't wake up.

_No no __**no**__! Get off of me! _

He tried jerking to the side to escape the unseen foe, but it was of no use. He could feel the weight on top of him, and it was real enough in his dream that he could feel it in real life.

_Please please please…stop hurting me…_

He felt violated, invaded at every point of his body as he shuddered in his bed. He tried to wrench himself from the grasp – that horrible grasp – and succeeded in tightening the sheet around his forearm more firmly. There was a small pop in his wrist, but he didn't notice it, occupied by the heaviness over him. He threw his arm against the headboard, but in his mind it was a fist that struck him, a hit to keep him quiet. It didn't work as he cried out.

_No…why would you tie me down? I'm so...confused…let me __**go**__! __**Please!**_

Now he fought not for himself, but for his love. Now, his ankles were tied back to his wrists so that he formed a donut-type shape with his body, his back arching painfully.

_No! Please – not her! I won't fight you if you just let her be! Please __**please**__, I'll do __**anything**__, just __**don't hurt her**__!_

Tears leaked out of his eyes, mixing with his sweat, and he panted for breath as his chest constricted with fear and pain. Sobs wracked his body as he struggled and writhed to get free from the ropes he could only feel in his mind.

"Please, please…" he whispered painfully. "Leave her _alone_…"

* * *

Peter watched through the small crack he'd created in the doorway when he opened the door. A few minutes ago he'd been startled by a loud crash above his head, and had gone to investigate, against his better judgement. When he'd seen Neal Caffrey struggling in bed in the midst of a nightmare, he'd felt a slightly vindictive pleasure go through him. He was seeing the man in a light that he knew he would never be allowed to see when the man was awake; weak and struggling. It was refreshing to see the 'master' in this position.

But the pleasure was short-lived as the handsome young man rolled over in his bed, facing Peter. Now Peter could see really how tortured the attractive charmer was. He saw the sweat-drenched hair sticking to his face and neck, the tears spilling freely from his eyes, the lines of stress across his forehead. Those normally bright and teasing blue eyes were squeezed shut in pain – but it was a different kind of pain. It wasn't pain for being whipped or falling down the stairs or even getting shot – it was pain for another person, sorrow to see someone in a horrible state.

"Please, please…" Neal's pitiful whispers drifted to Peter's ears. "Leave her _alone_…"

Covering Neal's expression was the pain of seeing someone you loved getting hurt. And Peter knew exactly what that felt like.

That realization had Peter opening the door all the way and stepping into the room, going over to Neal's bed. He lightly touched the man's shoulder, trying not to startle him, but it had the exact opposite effect as he jerked back, shying away from the touch.

"Please, _please_," Neal pleaded, eyes still clenched tightly shut.

"Caffrey," Peter said, reaching out to shake his shoulder again.

"Kate…!" He jerked forward suddenly, as though trying to escape invisible bonds, and his hand flew out and hit Peter in the abdomen. Peter choked back a gasp of pain as he stumbled back a step. Then he stepped forward again and grasped Neal's arm in a firm grip. Neal flinched, but then Peter said firmly:

"_Neal!_"

That one word had Neal's eyes flying open. He sat up quickly, blinking furiously as he tried to regain his bearings.

"Peter," he breathed after a moment. And just like that, the familiar mask was in place, though this time Peter could see the pain and sorrow lurking just beneath the surface in those orbs.

"You alright?" Peter asked cautiously, already having removed his hand from his shoulder but feeling like he should put it there again for comfort. He resisted the urge, and Neal gave him a somewhat shaky smile.

"Fine," he said, disentangling himself from the sheets and standing up. Peter realized that he was only wearing a pair of silk pajama bottoms, nothing on top to cover his chest. Neal continued as though it was nothing, "Just…nightmares, you know? I suppose everyone has them." He went over to the sink at the other end of the suite and filled a glass sitting on the counter with water, downing it in seconds.

"I hope I didn't wake you," he added, turning back to Peter. Peter shook his head.

"I was already awake," he said simply. "Nightmares of my own."

Neal nodded, and then went to the terrace doors, opening one and beckoning Peter to follow. They both walked out to the terrace and sat at the table there, staring at the New York skyline. At least, they pretended to stare at the skyline. Really, they were studying each other without the other knowing it.

"I have a wife," Neal said suddenly, and then glanced at Peter almost self-consciously before looking back at the skyline. "Well, I _did _have a wife..." He let out a shaky sigh, and paused before continuing, "I've told you how she was taken before...you know how it goes. But I didn't include the part about the nightmares. I always think too hard, imagine things...my brain thinks up some pretty vivid pictures. It feels...real."

"And that's what the nightmares are is you imagining what could've happened," Peter said in understanding. Neal nodded.

"It's always something..." he trailed off and then restarted. "I'm always helpless. They're hurting her, and I can't _do _anything. I've tried begging, but it never works."

"I know," Peter said softly, his own memories flashing through his mind of when he was in the same situation Neal was describing. Neal looked at him sadly for a moment before looking back out at the lights of New York.

"El and I were taken on our anniversary," Peter said after a while. Neal looked at him as he continued. "We were going to go to California, to go to Disneyland, but something went wrong with our hotel booking. We had to find another hotel, and it took us past the worst part of town. Our car got hijacked, the hijackers ended up selling us to this guy down in Mexico. We were drugged and smuggled across the border, which is why the police and FBI never found us when our families and friends reported us missing. We were tossed between buyers in Mexico for seven years before we were finally sold to a guy in Florida, who then sold us to a guy in Tennessee, who then sold us to a guy in Pennsylvania, where we were finally sold to the dealers in New York."

"Quite a resume," Neal said with a sigh. "Life sucks."

Peter shrugged. "It could be worse. El and I could've been sold separately at one point. I can tell you now that if she wasn't here, I would either be dead from so many escape attempts or broken like you've no doubt seen in some of the others."

Neal nodded, having figured this out already. They were quiet for a few seconds before Peter said hesitantly, "Were you...serious when you said you would let us free once the baby is born?"

Neal nodded. "Assuming you follow the rules, of course." After a pause, he ventured to ask, "Is that what you were dreaming about?"

"What?"

"I mean...the baby. Do you really think I would want to harm it?"

Peter stared at him. "Honestly, Caffrey, I don't know. I can't read you. But no, the baby had nothing to do with my nightmare."

"Was it Elizabeth, then?"

"Why do you _care_?" Peter demanded suddenly. "Honestly, all of this questioning is making me a little suspicious of your intentions." He stood up and began walking back to the room. "I'm going back to bed - Elizabeth is waiting for me."

Neal nodded, even though Peter wasn't watching anymore. He stared out at the sky for several minutes, simply enjoying the light breeze and quiet of early morning.

Suddenly his cell phone rang inside, and with a sigh, Neal got up to answer it. He found it charging on the counter, and he saw by the unidentified number that it was Mozzie. He swiftly unplugged the phone and answered it, raising it to his ear as he walked back out to the terrace. Leaning against the edge and staring at the moon, he said:

"Mozzie, it's three-thirty in the morning. Why the hell are you calling me?"

"Oh, hush, Neal. I heard on the bugs that you've been awake for a while now. Interesting conversation with the slave, I might add."

"Dammit, Mozzie - you _bugged my house_?" Neal said, exasperated. "How many times have I told you _not _to do that?"

"And how many times have I told you that the Feds can't be trusted? You need protection!"

"I _am _a Fed, Moz," Neal reminded him, trying not to smile in amusement at his friend's paranoia. "For someone with an eidetic memory, you sure seem to forget that detail a _lot_."

"You're only a half-Fed, though. You - "

"What's _that _supposed to mean?" Neal interrupted.

Mozzie sighed, like he couldn't _believe _he had to explain this again, when in reality he'd never explained it before. "I've been thinking about this a lot, Neal - you only turned Fed to find Kate and have enough protection and freedom that you could find out easily if she had popped up on the radar. You just _happened _to become the senior agent in that division, and that's why you have the job of taking in other slaves too, to find out what they know. If you ask me, it's inhumane, and smells _entirely _too much like - "

"Well, no one _asked _you, Moz," Neal said, growing increasingly irritated. "The point is that you bugged the house of a _federal agent_. I'd have to check to be sure, but I'm pretty sure that's illegal."

"Don't be pulling out your nightstick and handcuffs just yet, Mr. Senior Agent. You'll be happy to know that because of the bugs, I got the guy's voice that attacked you and ran it through voice recognition. I found a match."

* * *

**Review, por favor? ;)**


	10. Chapter 10

"Matthew Keller?" Diana said disbelievingly as she stared down at a file in her hands. "_He's _your guy?"

Neal nodded and took the file from her, pointing to the list of arrest charges. "Assault and battery, murder, human trafficking...it makes sense. Small-time slave dealer looking for a few extra bucks - Gerald sends him to kidnap or possibly kill Peter, finds me instead. Since he broke out of prison last year, he'd rather run than add 'murder of a federal agent' to his list of charges."

"We can't have seen the last of him," Diana said disbelievingly.

Neal shook his head in agreement. "Nope. I don't think so, either. To keep the Burkes safe, I reduced their radius to the house today."

"How in _hell _will that keep them safe?" Diana demanded. "If Keller comes, and they need to run, they'll be trapped."

"But they can't go within ten feet of any doors, and five of any windows. They won't be able to let him in."

"He got in before without having to be invited."

"But I had Mozzie install shockers on all the windows and doors, so if he tries to get in, he'll be caught."

"It sounds too perfect to work," Diana said doubtfully.

"It will work," Neal said confidently. "I'd say we'll have him some time in the next week, and then he can lead us straight to the head of the operation. He won't stay away for long."

He forgot to knock on wood.

* * *

It was three days later that Neal's phone and computer began beeping erratically at the same time, and Neal immediately knew that the trackers had set them off. Pulling up the tracking data, he was just in time to see Peter's tracker blink from yellow to red behind the house. Elizabeth's was still green inside.

_Oh, no._

* * *

Before Elizabeth had been kidnapped and sold with Peter, she had easily been able to get in elevators. She had been able to go scuba diving without panicking, and at her best friend's eighteenth birthday party she remembered getting drunk and becoming a contortionist for the night. She had fit herself into a suitcase and let herself be tossed into the pool so that she could show everyone that she could escape. She'd had no fear or anxiety, confident that she could get out.

But that had been ten years ago. That was before she had been locked alone in a dark closet for hours - even _days _- on end. That was before she had been tied up and gagged in a way that left her helpless and immobile. That was before she had felt hundreds of different men's bodies on top of her, pressing her down so she couldn't move. That was before she had been pinned down by rough, invasive hands as she was violated and abused. That was before she developed claustrophobia.

Tears squeezed out of her eyes as she willed her mind to believe that she was anywhere but here. She was _not _being pressed against the ground in the kitchen, she could not feel a man's hot breath on her neck. No one was covering her mouth so she couldn't scream, no one was whispering taunting words in her ear.

_"You know, I only came for your husband over there..."_

No, no, no! This wasn't happening - she couldn't feel every inch of the man lying on top of her, because there was no one on top of her. She was safe. She was dreaming...or nightmare-ing.

_"...but there's no reason I can't have fun with __**you**__."_

There was not something hardening against her thigh, and that metallic clink was _not _a belt being unfastened. It was...it was...

Oh, what was the _point_? El's eyes flew open to stare into the amused, cold eyes of the man who had come into the house the week before. Neal had told them his name - was it Keller? Keller the Killer...that was probably the most accurate nickname he'd ever been given.

El could feel hysteria bubbling up inside of her, and she tried to push it down.

_Keep it together, Elizabeth, _she told herself. _You __**cannot **__freak right now!_

But it was no use. A moment later she began laughing, but it was hard to laugh with her mouth covered, and she began to have difficulty breathing.

"Something funny, toots?" Keller demanded, though there was cold amusement in his eyes as he stared down at her laughing. He knew exactly what was happening to her.

El shook her head angrily even as she continued to giggle and cry simultaneously. Keller removed his hand from her mouth, but before she could make a sound, chapped lips covered hers, kissing furiously. She struggled again, but he simply pressed against her arms that he had crossed over her chest, and with his other hand he reached down to his waist and did something she couldn't see. She could guess though, and it didn't make her feel any better. She squeezed her eyes shut again and felt his teeth bite against her bottom lip. She tasted something metallic in her throat and realized that it was blood. Bile rose in her throat, but she choked it back down, not wanting to throw up on him and make him angry. He might just go for Peter, who lied helpless and twitching in the backyard as electricity continued to flow through him.

He had been pulled out by Keller a few minutes before, and he had dropped like a stone when he crossed his radius and the tracker shocked him unconscious. Then Keller had noticed El standing in the kitchen, staring at them in shock and horror, but unable to go out for fear of getting shocked herself and harming the baby.

"Please, please..." she pleaded against his lips, tears streaming down her face. "Please don't..."

"Come on, sugar," Keller said as he used one hand to lift her sundress above her waist. "I'm just getting started."

"And your life will be ended if you don't get off of her _right now_."

Elizabeth felt a rush of relief flow through her when she recognized Neal's voice in the room. She opened her eyes and looked over to see him standing in the doorway, pointing a gun at the man with a steely look in his eyes. He stared coldly at Keller, finger on the trigger and the safety switch off. Anger flowed off of him in waves, but Elizabeth knew that this time it was at Keller rather than herself. This knowledge assured her, made her feel comforted. She wondered briefly how she could feel so safe and secure by the man who had bought her and used her and Peter as servants, including thrashing their palms and leaving them without dinner. But the feeling was there, and she didn't want to get rid of it.

"_Get off_," Neal ordered when the man didn't comply immediately.

"You wanna fuck her yourself then?" Keller laughed, tightening his grip on her. "You gotta wait your turn then - rules are..."

_Bang!_

Neal's finger tightened on the trigger and the bullet shot out, flying through the air to hit Keller's arm. With a pained cry, he fell off of Elizabeth and against the hard ground onto his back, grasping desperately at the wound to staunch the flow of blood and consequent pain. Elizabeth immediately scooted away from him in way that resembled a crab walk, eyes wide as she leaned against the island. Not looking at her, Neal stalked over to the man on the ground, kicking him in the side to try and get his attention. He didn't seem to notice, occupied with the bullet wound in his arm.

"Who sent you?" Neal demanded, pointing the gun at Keller's chest. Keller laughed seemingly hysterically and spat in his face. Or, it would've hit his face had he had his strength. Instead it hit the ground at his feet.

"Fuck you, Caffrey!" he told him angrily. Then, faster than seemed possible, he reached into the band of his waist, pulling out a gun that had been previously unnoticed by the two of them. Neal thought he was going to shoot him or Elizabeth and tensed in anticipation, but instead he shoved it into his mouth, pointing the muzzle upward. A moment later, another gunshot rang through the house.

* * *

"Are you sure you're alright?"

Elizabeth turned at Peter's words and the hand on her shoulder. She graced him with a smile, saying insistently, "For the last time - _yes_. I'm more concerned about you - the tracker really did a number on you."

"Nah, I'm fine," Peter tried to say offhandedly.

El smiled softly and clasped both of his hands together in hers, and then pressed her lips to his fingers. "You can't fool me, hon. You're still trembling."

"It's only been an hour," Peter protested, and then went back to the original subject. "What about the baby? Do you feel like it's...okay?"

Elizabeth nodded and glanced over to Neal for a brief instant, who was talking with a couple of police officers. "Ne-Mr. Caffrey called his friend Haversham over and he did a quick check while you were waking up. Everything seems to be going fine, but Haversham will be doing another test tomorrow - just to be sure."

Peter breathed out a sigh of relief and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "If Caffrey hadn't come..."

"_Don't _even think about it," Elizabeth interrupted, squeezing him tightly. "Keller is dead now - he's killed himself. I'm safe. _You're _safe."

"But we still don't know why he came after us...or _me_, I suppose."

"We can figure that out later," El said as Neal approached.

"They want your guys' statement," he said in a quiet voice once he reached them. "Your story: you're married, Elizabeth is my sister. She's _not _pregnant. You're staying here on a government-release program, which explains the trackers on your ankles. You both went to jail for burglary, and I'm your handler. I work at the FBI, and you help me solve my cases. Everything that happened here with Keller is the same - you can tell them the truth about that. Questions?"

"It's illegal to impersonate a federal agent," Peter reminded him, voice a little sour.

"It's also illegal to buy people and use them as servants," Neal retorted. "Now go. He's going to get suspicious if he thinks that we're talking for too long."

* * *

**Hm...interesting chapter? I thought so. I know it's a lot shorter than the ones I've written before, but not to worry! I have a shocker coming up that may not shock ****_some_**** of you...but hopefully enough! Also, I really only used Keller (of all people) because he's dead anyway and I didn't want anything revealed about...well...anything, so I'm like - hey! Let's put in someone we all know already! Yes, it's a little OOC that he committed suicide rather than trying to broker a deal, but he was the first one I thought of, and he would make a better small-time crook that Adler would...anyway, please review! I love seeing your guys' thoughts! :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**So…sorry I haven't updated for a while, guys! I've been really busy, first with moving and then going on vacation – I really had _no _time to update… I know some people were worried that I was going to abandon the fic, but I can assure you all right now that I will _never _do that! This is the fic I'm focused on most, actually, and I'm really excited to crank out my ideas into words and put up for you guys! :D**

**Anyway, hope you enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

It had been two weeks. Two weeks since Keller's attack on the Burkes, and it had been relatively quiet the entire time.

The Burkes were obedient, submissive, not wanting to anger their "master" and therefore give him reason to extend their slavery another month. They were still uneasy around him, not sure what they were supposed to do when he was near, but they still discussed ways to break free. They never tried, though, because they could never come up with anything that wouldn't put them or their unborn child at risk.

Neal realized this of course, which was why he kept their radii to the house and it's property rather than just the house. He knew they wouldn't be able to call anyone for help, but if they had to run to escape in the event of another break-in, he wanted them to be able to. He had been mortified to discover that Mozzie's usual eleven layers of protection on the window shocking system had been shortened to only seven, making it that much quicker and easier for Keller to work his way around the wiring and break in without getting hurt.

But so far, no one had come. There had been no hint of the people after the Burkes, but Neal knew that they were still out there, watching. Waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

One day, Neal was walking back from lunch to go back up to the office when he happened to glance across the street. He saw a little girl, maybe eight or nine, staring at him. She was bone-thin, and her clothes hung in tatters around her. Her dark hair was greasy and unkempt, her eyes hollow and sunken in. Her entire look and posture and attitude screamed of starvation. This was nothing new to Neal, as he had seen countless homeless people on the streets of New York City, many of them children. He continued on his way, checking to be sure that his wallet and FBI badge were still in his inside pockets. He didn't think much more of her until he saw her again that evening on a coffee break. The next day he saw her across town. She was staring at him again, though this time she held a slip of paper in her small, fragile hand – a photograph, perhaps. He tried to go to her, to ask her what she wanted, but when she saw this, she immediately darted off.

Neal wondered – was this girl helping the traffickers? He wouldn't put it past them – she could look how she did because she had been constantly pumped full of drugs, drugs to make her easier. If that was the case, she was definitely a fighter, because she looked so sickly she had to have been getting those drugs on a daily basis. The thought almost gave Neal hope – if she was a fighter, she could bounce back that much more easily when he brought down this trafficking ring.

* * *

She clutched the picture in her bony hand as though her life depended on it. And when she thought about it, she supposed it did. Her small frame trembled with what she _didn't _have in her veins, and she nervously chewed the inside of her cheek. She stared down at the photograph once more, the blurry snapshot of the man she was tailing.

_Follow him home, _she remembered. _All you have to do is follow him home, and then it's over. It's all over._

But she was so sleepy. She wanted to go to sleep. Maybe…maybe she could lift his wallet, just to find out what his address was. Maybe take a few dollars…

No. She wouldn't take anything. She would just look at his address, and then she could go right there instead of following him around all day. She was just so exhausted. She could sneak in, maybe take a nap as she waited for him to come home…

The thought was so appealing to her that she didn't have the will to resist. Without fully conscious thought, she sped up a little until she stood just behind and to the left of the man. She slipped her index finger and middle finger into a pocket, hoping she had chosen the right one.

_Yes._

Her fingers closed around leather, and she eagerly pulled it out, slowing down to open it and look for the driver's license.

Instead, she found a shiny gold badge on one side and a card on the other. Her eyes glanced over the words _Special Agent Neal Caffrey – Federal Bureau of Investigation._

There were more words, but they blurred over her vision as she began to mentally curse herself. She closed her eyes, which was why she hadn't seen the man stop, turn, and come toward her. A large, strong hand closed over her thin wrist, and it was only then that she snapped her eyes open to see the man she'd been tailing standing there.

A million thoughts raced through her head in the brief instant before he spoke. The one that stood out the most, though – surely he wouldn't hurt her just because she'd lifted his badge? He was a federal agent – they couldn't do that…could they?

Then the man said in a gentle, friendly sort of tone, "I've seen you before, haven't I?"

* * *

Neal smiled a little to himself when he saw the girl again, following along a few feet behind him. He glanced at a car parked against the curb, and saw her in the reflection from the back window. She slipped the piece of paper into her pocket, her gaze seemingly fixed on his back. He felt a little uneasy, not knowing if she was just a harmless orphan girl living on the streets or a slave girl promised freedom if she killed him. He hadn't seen a weapon though, and he was in a crowded area. Surely she wouldn't try and kill him here and now.

A few moments later, he felt a small, almost imperceptible tug on his jacket. He slipped his hand into his pocket, and sure enough, his badge was gone. He had placed it in the outside jacket pocket as soon as he'd noticed her following him, just to see what she would do.

He turned back just in time to see her open the badge, her gaze wandering over it before she tensed. He walked over and took hold of her arm so that she couldn't run. Her eyes snapped open and she stared up at him. Her eyes were wide and terrified, darting from side to side and avoiding his direct gaze. He noticed that her entire body was quaking, seemingly in fear.

Trying to put her mind at ease, he said in what he hoped was a friendly voice, "I've seen you before, haven't I?"

She seemed too stunned to say anything, and he felt the muscles in her arm slacken. He caught the badge she had dropped before it could hit the ground. Slipping it into his inside pocket, he said:

"We need to talk."

She didn't seem completely aware of what was going on as he began to pull her off of the sidewalk, into the alley so that they could talk without the risk of being overheard. But suddenly she was struggling, clawing and kicking and biting as she began trying to get away. He hardly tightened his grip on her – her attempts were weak and feeble at best, and he was more concerned that she was going to hurt herself rather than him.

"Whoa, whoa – kid! You don't need to be afraid of me – I'm one of the good guys. _Calm down._"

She shook her head vehemently, not believing him. She clawed harder, and he finally managed to secure her other arm with his free hand.

"Whoa – hey! Stop! You're gonna hurt yourself!"

Something about these words made her struggle a bit less, and a look of confusion crossed over her face for a moment before she finally stopped altogether. But, Neal noticed, she was still quivering all over in fear. An idea crossed his mind – perhaps his first words had been said by others when they hurt her, but his last comment had been about worry for _her_, something that, if she was indeed a slave, would be a rarity.

"That's better," Neal breathed a sigh of relief. He searched his mind for something normal to say, something to put her at ease. Finally he settled on, "What's your name, kid?"

He had to strain to hear her whispered response, but he was just able to make out the word "Colette". He smiled down at her, saying, "That's a pretty name. I have a cousin named Colette. She's older than you, though."

She didn't make any response to this, so Neal went on, "Why have you been following me, Colette?"

She looked away, out toward the street, not seeming to have heard him. She clearly wanted to run away from him, so he tightened his grip a little, just to make sure that she couldn't.

"Are you helping Gerald?" he pressed. She again didn't respond, and Neal fought the urge to shake her. She was just a little girl, clearly helpless under his grasp. And if her trembling form was anything to go by, she was still terrified of him.

_Wait a minute..._

Neal let go of her arms and took both sides of her face instead, crouching down to her level as he turned her face toward him. Just like before, she looked anywhere but him, avoiding direct eye contact. But he could still see that look in her eyes, and his stomach dropped at what he found there.

But, before he could say anything further, her eyes suddenly rolled back into her head, and she passed out in his arms.

* * *

Peter was wiping off the coffee table in the front room when the front door suddenly opened. He checked the time – it was only twelve-thirty in the afternoon, so Mr. Caffrey couldn't have been home yet. His hackles rose as he tensed, expecting another intruder, even though it had been quiet for a couple of weeks now. But he was startled to see that it was _Neal _coming through the front door, holding something in his arms. It took a moment for him to realize that it was a small girl, maybe only eight or nine years old.

"Who's that?" Peter asked as Neal set the girl down on the couch. Disapproval was clear in his voice. "Another slave?"

"I don't have time for this right now, Peter," Neal said, and Peter was surprised to hear a note of worry in his voice. "I need you to call Haversham; tell him to come over and bring tools." He reached into his suit pocket, his hand coming out holding his cell phone. He tossed it to Peter, who was so surprised that he almost dropped it.

"Speed dial 2," Neal instructed as he stood up and hurried to the kitchen.

* * *

It wasn't even five minutes later that Mozzie came through the front door without bothering to knock. He held a bag in one hand. He immediately went over to the couch, where Neal knelt beside the small girl, washing her face and arms with a wet washcloth.

"What's wrong with her?" Mozzie asked without preamble.

"She's on withdrawals," Neal said quickly, moving aside as Mozzie opened his bag. "Looks like a cocktail, but definitely with heroin in it."

"How long —?"

"I don't know," Neal interrupted, knowing what he was going to ask. "She was shaking when she showed up. I think she's on withdrawal of one thing while she's strung out on another. She didn't know half of what was going on when I was talking to her."

"Another one?"

"It looks like it."

Peter and Elizabeth stood off to the side and watched as Mozzie and Neal conversed, figuring out what was wrong with the girl. Clearly she had drugs in her system, and they worried for her. Why weren't they calling a hospital? What could Haversham do, really?

"You need to get her to an emergency room," Elizabeth said, stepping forward. "She needs professionals, with equipment…"

"They're not going to do much for her there, Elizabeth," Neal said, hardly glancing at her as Mozzie pulled things out of his bag. "They don't care to work hard for homeless people."

"But she's a _child_," Elizabeth stressed, irritation growing.

"What difference does it make?" Neal said with a shrug. "They would rather leave the beds open to people who have a chance in life. 'Homeless' does not qualify."

"Or you just don't want attention drawn to your _slave_." Elizabeth said, taking a step forward. "This is a girl's _life _we're talking about!"

Neal looked at her, carefully schooling his face into an expressionless mask. "She _can't_ go to the hospital, Elizabeth. She has more chance with Haversham's help than theirs. _Drop it._" He turned back to the girl, apparently done with the conversation.

Elizabeth couldn't hide her anger now. She stepped forward and grabbed Neal's shoulder, trying to get him to look at her. He did, just barely able to hide his surprise.

"You heartless bastard!" she exclaimed. "Do you not care that you have a little girl _dying _on your couch?!" she tried to slap him, but he grabbed her wrist. At this, Peter stepped forward, but Elizabeth had already pulled free, Neal not having held on tightly.

"Keep your hands off me!" she hissed angrily. Peter stepped up behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders. They stared defiantly at Neal, united in their determination.

"Go upstairs," Neal said coolly.

"She needs _real help_, Mr. Caffrey," Peter insisted.

"She _has _real help," Neal said. "Haversham is a certified doctor."

"You don't even _care _– !"

"I _do _care," Neal interrupted. "That's why I brought _him _in. Now go. Upstairs_._"

"You don't care about slaves!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "You don't care about _her_, and neither does _he_!"

"I'm warning you," Neal said firmly, "_Go upstairs_."

"She – !"

"You have another month tacked on," Neal finally said. "Go upstairs before you get another."

Finally, with identical angry looks, Peter and Elizabeth went up the stairs. Neal heard a door slam, probably their bedroom door. Somehow he knew it was Elizabeth who had slammed it.

"Well, that went well," Mozzie said suddenly as Neal stared after them. "I think you've got this 'slavemaster' thing down pat."

Neal rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Moz."

* * *

**Well…I think we all knew that the Burkes couldn't be obedient for long. ;p Don't get mad at me, guys! It had to happen! And, if we're all being honest to ourselves, it will probably happen at least one more time before the baby is born…we've still got a little more than four months to go, and then with the extra month…;) Please review, and I'll work hard at getting the next chapter up soon! :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**The shocker is in this chapter guys! I'm so excited! ;)**

* * *

Colette didn't regain consciousness that day, and Neal called in to say he wouldn't be coming back to work that day either; possibly not the next day either. It depended on how Colette was doing. For one, he didn't want to leave her alone with the Burkes – they might disobey him again and take her to the hospital. He had been serious when he had been explaining about how homeless people were viewed in hospitals, but that hadn't been the entire reason. If she was, in fact, helping Gerald or O'Donnell, word would surely get back to them where she was and she could end up dead before a full day was through.

But something was nagging at him, as he watched the girl fighting nightmares on the couch. It pained him to see a girl so young trapped in the clutches of drugs, but he couldn't wake her up. He'd tried, but she was too far deep that she couldn't come up yet. Mozzie had said she would be okay – that most of the cocktail was out of her system already. She would be having severe withdrawals for the next few days, but gradually they would fade and she would be able to communicate and hopefully tell Neal what was going on.

But the drugs weren't what kept bothering him. Sure, that was troublesome, but something was niggling at the back of his mind. He stared at Colette, trying to figure it out, but it was like a dog chasing its tail – it was always just out of reach.

Peter and Elizabeth meanwhile, were hard at work at being as disdainful as they could to Neal without being outright disobedient. They were cool and aloof, pissed that they got on extra month when all they had been trying to do was help out the little girl. Of course, they thought that Neal had just bought her as another slave, but Neal wasn't saying anything to correct them.

"He's only bought her so that he can have more help after we're gone," Peter said as he peeled potatoes for dinner the next day. "Maybe…I dunno, maybe we should _purposely _disobey a bit so that we can stay long enough to help her out."

"We don't _know_ that she was bought," El tried to say as she chopped lettuce into salad-sized pieces.

"Come on, El," Peter said in exasperation. "You _saw _how starved she was, and you heard that she was strung out on drugs. No eight-year-old is going to be taking drugs of her own volition – not at this early of an age. She's definitely a slave, and she was given that cocktail of drugs to keep her down while Caffrey took her back to the house."

"I don't know," El said doubtfully. "He _did _seem honestly concerned about her well-being when he showed up…"

"That's because it's like I said – he needs another slave of his to boss around and do as he pleases once we've left."

"That's now five months away," El reminded him. "He could've waited and gotten someone later, after it looks like we're leaving soon."

Peter shook his head. "Not if he wants to start training her now," he insisted. "I'm telling you – she's his new slave."

"Then we'll help her while we can," El said simply. "It does neither of us – or _her_, for that matter – any good to start jumping to conclusions now rather than wait and see how she is before we leave. Maybe we can get her free with us once we're gone. Or better yet, report Mr. Caffrey to the FBI."

Peter suddenly stopped his peeling and looked at her. "That's what's been bugging me," he said. "Why is he planning to let us go if he knows we're going to go straight to the Feds?"

El shrugged. "Maybe he has someone in there to clear it up every time something like that comes up. I don't know. You're over thinking this, hon."

Peter sighed and went back to peeling, but in his mind, the question still lingered.

* * *

That night, Neal lied in his bed, staring up at the dark ceiling. So much had happened that day…it was just so much to take in. He had moved the little girl to a guest bedroom next to his, so that he could hear if she screamed or cried or made any noise that he could go and help her. Or try to, anyway. She had seemed to be awake and alert a couple of times during the day, but she was still caught in her hallucinations and nightmares. It tore at his heart every time she cried out in distress, though he couldn't fathom why. He'd only met her today after all, and what did he really know about her?

Her name was Colette. That was it. Nothing else – not even how old she was. For all he knew, _she _was sent to kill him.

But somehow, as he kept seeing those enormous blue eyes filled with tears and panic, he couldn't believe that. Perhaps she _wasn't_ working for Gerald or O'Donnell. But then who was she? And why was she following him? He wondered how long she had been following him – he'd only noticed the day before, but in reality she could've been following him for days or even _weeks_ before he realized it. The thought unsettled him a little, but he quickly tried to brush these feelings aside. She was a little girl, for God's sake – not a crazed serial killer.

Neal sighed and rubbed tiredly at his sore eyes. He hadn't had a good night's sleep since…well, _ages_. It had been years, at least, and it really took a toll on him. He wasn't normally this soft with the "slaves" he took in – he was able to get the job done, and get it done fast. But he'd had them for…what was it – six weeks now? He wasn't sure. Maybe it had just been so long since he was truly happy, and it really hurt him to crush Peter and El's happiness. Why did he have to be such a bastard? Why in hell did he even accept this job with the FBI?

Oh, right…

_He stared coldly at the man who had bought him - his new "master". Blue eyes hardly blinked as the old man examined him, looked him up and down as though assessing him. It was really nothing new. This was the fourth "master" since he'd been separated from Kate, and ever since then he'd been stone cold, hardly speaking to anyone, even when ordered. __**Especially**__ when ordered. He'd been beaten, raped, starved, even __**branded**__, but nothing worked. He would not become unhinged; become a shell of his former self - it was not in his nature to give up. He was simply biding his time, like a snake does before an attack. When it was the right time, he would break free and go after Kate._

_So he stood still, arms clasped comfortably behind his back. Or, they would be comfortable if they weren't linked together with handcuffs. They felt all too familiar to him, though before when he had worn them they had been chained above his head, to a bed post or such. Now, they didn't seem to be on for anything sexual – rather, to keep him in place, like a criminal._

_"How long have you been a slave, boy?" the old man finally asked. Neal simply blinked at him, not bothering to answer the bastard._

_The man simply smiled at his defiance and held up a gentle hand. "I mean you no harm, Neal," he said. He continued speaking, but the words alone opened some painful memories and Neal's brain blocked out what he was saying._

**_"I mean you no harm, Neal," the man whispered, trailing a finger up his chest. "You're safe here...with me." Something under his jacket pressed against the side Neal's thigh, and Neal knew immediately that it wasn't a gun._**

_"...to be perfectly honest."_

_Neal came back to the present as the man finished what he was saying, but he didn't bother to try and pick up what it had been. He stared at the man, loathe spilling from his eyes as free as water does in a waterfall. The man merely chuckled at the sight, but didn't deliver the blow Neal had been sure would be the consequence for his defiance._

_"What about your family, boy?" the man continued to question. "Where are they?"_

_Again Neal remained silent. After a moment the man asked:_

_"Are you __**from**__ New York?"_

_Neal simply rolled his eyes at the man's relentlessness and looked at the ceiling, trying to block out the questions._

_"What did you do before you were taken into this business?"_

_"How old were you when you were taken?"_

_"Did you graduate high school?"_

_"Did you ever go to college?"_

_"Did you get your Master's degree?"_

_"When were you taken into this business?"_

_"How old are you now?"_

_"What has kept you sane in this time?"_

_"Are you in love with someone?"_

_"Are you married?"_

_These were just a few of the questions that went on for at least an hour, but Neal never spoke or opened his mouth. Finally, though, the man asked a question that he __**had**__ to respond to._

_"Were you separated from your wife recently?"_

_"Thanks to bastards like you," Neal said bitingly, speaking for the first time in his presence._

_The expression on the man's face never changed. He simply studied Neal for a moment before saying, "I must say, you are very good at hiding your emotions. However, I was able to read you like a book in this past hour."_

_"Bite me," Neal said bluntly._

_The man simply smiled and recited, "You're an only child, raised in the Midwest – never a father in the picture. You moved to New York alone after you ran away - have been living here since you were eighteen or so. You attended a University on scholarship, got your Master's in...accounting, I'd say. You worked small-time jobs until you were almost twenty-three before marrying a woman named...Kate! About three weeks later, both of you were kidnapped and thrown into the slavery world. You were always sold together though, and that's what kept you sane, was your love. You turned twenty-four in March; you were separated from Kate...I'd say two weeks ago."_

_Neal stared at him, amazed and trying not to show it. "How...?"_

_"I watched the twitches on your face," the man said. "You would always make some reaction to what I had said."_

_"But...Kate..." Neal said confusedly._

_"Every time I would make the sounds that spelled out 'Kate', your pupils dilated the smallest fraction. It was entirely subconscious, I'm sure, but..." he shrugged. "I've had practice reading people."_

_Neal didn't say anything, and the man simply smiled again._

_"I like you, Caffrey," he told him. "You've got a strong will. Now I'm going to be perfectly straight with you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out something small and black, holding it out to him. "I'm not like most people who've already bought you."_

**_Reese Hughes, Federal Bureau of Investigation._**

_Neal looked back up at him with slightly widened eyes. "You're a Fed. You're FBI."_

_Hughes nodded. "If you'd like, __**you**__ can be, too. That's part of the reason I came to look for you."_

_"You __**bought**__ me to recruit me to the __**FBI**__?!" Neal said incredulously. "Wouldn't a letter or a colorful brochure in the mail have sufficed?!"_

_Hughes rolled his eyes. "Yes, of course - why didn't __**I**__ think of that?" he said sarcastically. "I suppose I could've addressed it as 'Neal Caffrey, 87 Riverside Drive...__**Basement Level, 4th Cage Down'**__. That would've gone over __**just**__**nicely**__ at the post office."_

_Neal rolled his eyes. "Seriously, this could've been made a __**lot**__ simpler. I don't __**want**__ to join the FBI!"_

_"I don't mean just __**any**__ division," Hughes said insistently. "I mean the Office for Victim Assistance, where __**I**__ work. Our division is __**dedicated**__ to stopping human trafficking, and if you joined, that's what you would be doing."_

_"So...if I joined, I could stop the people that were selling me?"_

_Hughes nodded. "Perhaps."_

_"And...I could get Kate back?"_

_"Now Caffrey, you have to understand that it takes a __**very**__ long time to bring down a trafficking ring as powerful as the one you dealt with."_

_Neal shook his head. "I don't care. I told her I would find her; that I would never give up."_

_"By the time we stop them, it could be twenty years from now. She could be a different person than the one you know now...or dead."_

_Neal kept shaking his head. "I don't care. I'll do anything it takes to get her back. I have to __**believe**__ that there's hope." He paused to take a breath and then said, "I'm in."_

_Hughes gave him a grim sort of smile, and with a sigh, he reached into his pocket for something. Neal realized when he held it out that it was a key for the handcuffs._

_"Oh," Neal said with a dazzling smile as he brought his hands in front of him. He held out the cuffs to Hughes. "Don't bother. I've got it."_

Neal sighed again as he came back to the present. Kate. He'd joined the FBI to find Kate. He hadn't expected to be promoted to senior agent a year into the job – he hadn't even fully understood what that entailed. But when Hughes had given him a file one day – not of a criminal but of a person he had to buy – it had all fallen into place. He'd been angry at first, and had struggled to be a convincing "master", but gradually the feelings had disappeared and he'd been driven by a single thing, repeating in his head every day like a mantra – _Find Kate. Find Kate and you can be done._

Neal rubbed at his eyes again, though this time it was to wipe at the tears suddenly leaking out of his eyes. _God_, he missed Kate. He wasn't sure she was even alive anymore, but he had to keep pressing forward, putting one foot in front of the other, living minute by minute so that he wouldn't fall apart at the seams.

Minute by minute…okay, firstly he needed to figure out who this "Colette" was and what she wanted with him. That was the first step. Then he could figure out the Burke issue – get the information he needed from Peter before they had totally closed off. He felt bad about giving them another month, but…still, he'd warned them. And before, their future had been indefinite – at least to them. Now, they knew for sure that they had five more months and they could be free. He knew he could get the information he needed out of Peter by then.

But, he was straying from the more pressing issue at the moment. Colette. She couldn't be more than nine years old. What was she doing with drugs in her system if she really _wasn't_ helping Gerald or O'Donnell? Could it have been her parents? Who were her parents? Why was she alone, wandering the streets of New York City?

After hours of questions in his mind, Neal finally fell into an exhausted, restless sleep.

* * *

_They had been married for six days now – six wonderful, happy days. They sat playing a game of chess on the patio of the hotel room they had rented for their honeymoon._

_"Neal, what do you think about kids?" she asked suddenly in the middle of their conversation about the performance they were going to see that night._

_Neal blinked, startled by this sudden question. He looked up at her, and saw that she was clearly a bit nervous by this question._

_"I…don't know," he said, uncertain what she expected to hear. "What about them?"_

_"Well…do you __**want**__ kids? Like a family?"_

_Neal set his chess piece down in the same spot he'd picked it up from. He looked at her seriously and then said, "Well, I have to confess, I haven't thought about it a whole lot…but if that's what you want – if it will make you happy – then it will make me happy, too."_

_Kate seemed uncertain at his response. "But do __**you **__want kids?" she pressed. "Do __**you **__want to have the responsibility of being a father?"_

_Neal smiled gently at her. "Yes," he said simply. "I…well, I want to be a dad. I want to play catch with my boy in the backyard and scare boys when they ask my daughter on a date. I would love that. But I really think it should ultimately be left up to you, 'cause you're the one that has to go through – "_

_He was cut off rather suddenly by Kate's lips pressed against his. Neal cupped a hand to the base of her neck and pulled her closer to sit on his lap as he kissed her back. After a few seconds, it was Kate who pulled away first._

_"What was that for?" Neal asked rather breathlessly, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips._

_Kate laughed and pecked the tip of his nose. "You, sweetheart. All of your confidence that you show to other people is completely wasted. Everyone should be allowed to see this wonderful, sweet, loving man in front of me. I'm just so honored to be one of the few you show him to."_

_Neal was rather confused. "So…you want kids too?" he couldn't hide the hopefulness in his voice._

_Kate laughed again and hugged him tightly. "Of course I do, punkin. I am just __**so **__glad you agree with me on this."_

_Neal smiled lovingly and pulled her in for another kiss. After breaking away again, he said, "Well…I think we should start discussing names, then. First boy? I like the name George."_

_"That's because it's __**your**__ middle name," Kate laughed. "Of __**course **__you like it. And if we're going to go for George, I think we should go for a Junior and name him Neal George Caffrey, Jr."_

_Neal grinned. "Okey dokey then. Neal George it is, then. But what if it's a girl first?"_

_Kate looked thoughtful for several seconds before she said, "I like the name Allison – Ali for short, of course."_

_"Ali would be adorable." Neal agreed readily. "But what if they're twin girls? What then?"_

_Kate smiled, though this time it seemed to come off a bit shy. "Well…I always liked my mom's middle name – she was French, you know."_

_Neal nodded. "I know that. But…I never knew her, remember? What was her middle name?"_

_Kate took a breath before saying, "It was Colette."_

_Neal could see her nervousness, and though he didn't particularly like the name, he could see that this was important to her. Besides, what did it matter what her name was? He would still love her all the same._

_Apparently he'd been quiet for a moment too long, because there was suddenly disappointment in Kate's eyes. "Well, maybe not…" she said self-consciously. "It is a bit old-fashioned…"_

_Neal quickly took her face in his hands and pecked her on the lips before saying firmly, "No. I love Colette. That will be her name."_

_Hope and doubt flickered as one in her enormous blue eyes. "Are you sure?"_

_Neal nodded and smiled. "I'm sure. Colette is perfect."_

* * *

Neal's eyes opened in a flash as he woke up from the sudden memory. He hadn't given much thought to that day so long ago – it had borne too many painful memories. But now that memory was brought to the full front of his mind, and he found that he couldn't rid himself of it. He pulled the picture of Kate out from under his mattress and stared at it for several moments – the main point being her eyes. That's what had been bugging him about Colette…she had the same blue eyes as Kate.

_No…_ he tried to tell himself. Colette wasn't Kate's daughter. That would be too odd of a coincidence, her showing up here, following him…but that would explain that bit. But there was the issue of the drugs…where did _that_ come from? If Kate was her mother, that would mean that she had been raped again, and gotten pregnant, which meant that he wasn't _technically _her father…but he would still have some sort of responsibility, with Kate gone and all. But she _wasn't _Kate's daughter. It couldn't be.

…Could it?

* * *

**HA! Hope some of you were surprised…or maybe not. In any case, please review and tell me what you think! XD**


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